


Good Intentions & Broken Promises

by lailannajacobs



Category: Asgardians of the Galaxy, Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fantasy, fey
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-24
Updated: 2021-03-05
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:20:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 35,292
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27698206
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lailannajacobs/pseuds/lailannajacobs
Summary: In the land of the 13 realms, you work for the King of the ice elementals, Odin Borson, thieving for him in exchange for yours and your sister’s lives. When he demands you steal the most powerful artefact in the lands, it takes you to the Fey realm and the Court of Magic that rules it. But before you can get anywhere close to the artefact, you’re caught redhanded in the palace by the most powerful man there. The only way to get the artefact and to save both your lives, is to strike a deal with king of the Fey, Loki Laufeyson, and what he has in mind is the last thing you expect.
Relationships: Loki/Reader
Comments: 13
Kudos: 28





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This is me writing all of my interests into one place. It’s a fake dating/fantasy/adventure/romance filled with different characters from the MCU that may or may not work together as a variety of different magical creatures. I’m super excited about this one (even though I know it may sound a bit strange) and I hope you come along for the ride and enjoy it too! <3

There was never anything good about being summoned before Odin. Not the first time it had happened and not any time since. The only difference between then and now was that you knew what to expect, and unfortunately for you, it was never anything good. You jut up your chin, the anger thrumming through your veins keeping you warm.

Every step you took down the pristine, snow-white hallways to the throne room felt like a march toward death; only the death you were walking toward wasn’t your own. You couldn’t explain why this time felt different, but you knew deep in your bones that it was. You could handle it if it was your life on the line. You’d been trained to accept that your life would always be second. What you couldn’t handle was knowing that if he asked you for the impossible, you would lose the only person you cared about — the one person that wasn’t alive, not only because you loved her, but because she was too important to be killed by the tyrant sitting on the throne. Your only mission was to keep your sister alive. Everything else, including revenge, came second.

Your escorts pushed open the doors, freezing air rushing out into the hall to greet you. The king, like most people in this realm, thrived in the cold, their powers akin to the everlasting winter that was Niflheim. All the Frost creatures had varying degrees of power, but none that match that of the king. Sitting on a throne carved from ice, the palace was almost as cold and cruel as he was, the cold biting through your thin sweater. For the average human, the palace was practically unbearable, but you were neither human nor a Frost creature. Your ability to blend in with humans was the only reason he had never found out who you were — the reason both of you were still alive.

King Odin brushed back his white hair, tiny flurries of snow bursting at the movement. He appeared uninterested by your arrival, half asleep on the throne, but the slip in control of his magic spoke otherwise. Something had pissed him off and you weren’t sure you wanted to know what it was. His icy blue eyes narrowed and you were afraid he could sense that you were itching to find your sister somewhere in the palace so you could grab her and run so far he’d never reach you. The day he had captured you, Odin had made her a part of his court as collateral for your good behaviour — a decision he’d only made after torturing her so that I would agree to work for him. It was nothing more than a glorified prison, but at least she wasn’t in the dungeon.

Making sure your face was nothing more than emotionless mask, you waited, refusing to speak before he did.

“Vojak,” he used the native term for soldier. He’d never once spoken your name and you seriously doubted he could figure it out to save his life.

You bowed deeply, “I am yours to command.”

The words tasted like acid in your mouth and you fought the urge to straighten and wreak havoc on the palace, knowing you were far too outnumbered, even with your abilities, for both of you to make it out alive. For now, you had to play the obedient soldier until you thought of a way to get you and your sister out, and you held the bow until he told you to rise. Even now, after decades of ruling, Odin never tired of watching his subjects bow to his power. You could only dream of wiping the sneer from his face.

“Enter Natasha,” he barked.

Your sister walked into the throne room, head down, with two guards flanking her. Her face was paler than usual, with dark circles under her eyes, but otherwise, she seemed unharmed. It didn’t mean you could breath any easier. The fancy dress and meticulously braided hair was a poor attempt to hide the fact that he hated humans and was biding his time before he could revive the war on purity.

Nat refused to look at you. You didn’t want her to either. Any shared look could mean either of your deaths, no matter how innocent. Her fingers tapped twice at her side, somewhat easing the pressure on your chest. Two taps: I’m okay. Your own tapped three times on your pant leg: I love you.

“I have need of a book,” King Odin boomed, jolting everyone to attention.

Your heart dropped in your chest, dreading what he would say next. There was no doubt in your mind which book he was referring to. After all, there had only ever been one book worth having for a power-hungry narcissist. Only the book was a myth; it didn’t exist. You rolled back your shoulders, counting the massive icicles dripping from the vaulted ceiling to keep from crying out or attempting to kill him before your failure brought his wrath down on Nat. You tried not to let your emotions carry you away. He hadn’t asked for the impossible yet. He could be talking about any book. You didn’t need to get riled up and do something stupid.

“The Hand of Damnation,” the words, spoken so casually, sucked the air from your lungs and you couldn’t breathe, “I have word that it’s in Asgard. I need it. Retrieve it before the Orange Moon.”

He didn’t need to threaten you; the words went unspoken. If you didn’t get the book — the most infamous artefact in the nine realms — then your sister would die, but not before a long and torturous session to remind you of your failures. It didn’t matter that he was asking for the impossible. It didn’t matter that Asgard was an island with nothing other than rumour coming out of it. It didn’t matter that since the war, the magic-welding Fey had closed their borders except for their port town. All you knew for sure was that anyone who got past that town didn’t come back out, all you had were six moons to get in, get the book, and get out.

A guard stepped away form the king’s side and handed you a black pendant, no bigger than an apricot seed hanging off a thin, black rope. There was no design on it, and to anyone else it wouldn’t look like anything other than a simple gemstone, but you knew different. You’d been handed the horrible thing too many times before. When it turned white and freezing , your time was up. You slipped it around your neck, already feeling like it was strangling you — another gruesome reminder of what would happen if you failed.

You lifted your chin, surprised by the sound of your voice when you said, “consider it done.”

~~~~~~~~~

Gamora walked into the courtyard, an expression on her face that Loki couldn’t decipher — not that he’d ever had much luck knowing what she was thinking. All he knew for sure was that whatever she was coming to tell him couldn’t be good.

“Found anything?” he asked by way of greeting.

She stopped a foot away, the gentle breeze ruffling her long, dark hair, “nothing of concern to me.”

A sense of dread gripped his stomach and he jammed his hands into his pockets to keep from fidgeting. Whenever Gamora wasn’t needed in Asgard, she was gone, searching the other realms for a way to break her curse. She shouldn’t have been here today. She should have been in Alfheim, which could only mean that whatever she’d seen had been too important to ignore. Loki wasn’t sure he wasn’t to know what it was.

Still, he found himself asking, “how bad?”

She fixed her gaze on him, her dark soulless eyes the only indication of what she truly was, and confirmed what he’d already guessed at, “enough death to have brought me back.”

“Can I stop it?”

She was already here so his question was in vain, but he’d needed to ask it anyways.

“Not all of it,” she stated with absolute certainty.

Loki shivered, though he knew it had nothing to do with the weather. He wanted to ask her how to stop it, but the _how_ was a question she’d always refused to answer. Sterling didn’t know if she refused because she couldn’t tell him or because she didn’t want to, but he knew there were other questions she would answer that were worth almost as much.

“What causes it?” he asked.

Her lips puckered in disgust, the most emotion he’d seen on her face in a long time, “your sister is coming. Hella intends to take back the throne.”


	2. A Deal With Kings. What Else Is New?

The gates to Asgard were out of place and definitely useless. Not far from the docks, they were set within a large stone arch, wide enough to let through four carts at once, its gates wide open. Though really, it wouldn’t have mattered if they were opened or closed. The arch was the tallest structure — other than the golden palace in the distance — in the town, but it wasn’t connected to anything else. Compared to Niflheim’s borders which were protected by a massive ice wall and protected by sentinels day and night, these gates looked like they had been erected long ago, more out of custom than necessity. Worn out and paled from the sun and the tropical storms that came through this part of continent, it was a miracle the thing was still standing.

There wasn’t a guard in sight either, but you weren’t going to let yourself be fooled so easily. What little you did know about Asgard was enough to make you pause in front of the rusted iron gates. The realm was ruled by the Court of Magic. These were Fey who could harness the energy flowing through the 9 Realms and bend it to their will. It was rumoured that they had no limit to their abilities — abilities I couldn’t even begin to understand — replicating the unique magic that defined each realm. And you were about to steal from these people.

Even though you didn’t believe for a moment that the city’s limits were left unprotected, you didn’t know what to expect either. There was always the dreaded possibility that if you used your own abilities that they’d instantly know what you were. You knew enough about magic to know that anyone using their abilities let out a burst of energy that was unique to the race. In Niflheim, it didn’t matter, but here…it wasn’t worth the risk. So, you vowed that within these borders, for yours and Nat’s safety, you were human. Nothing more.

Slumping your shoulders and staring down at your feet, you walked in as the forgettable human you needed to be, officially stepping into Asgard. You shivered, half expecting to get caught, but nothing happened. The modest looking market area was bustling with life and you jumped to the side to avoid getting trampled. Vendors shouted from crammed booths at citizens roaming the streets, trying to catch the eyes of customers who might actually stop. Their eyes glanced quickly over you, not wanting to bother with someone who looked so disinterested and poor. The crowd, and even the vendors, were a mix of people from the different realms, the Fey and equal part of the mix, mingling as if this was all something they did every day. Thankfully, even as a human, you’d be able to blend into the bustle.

You wandered through the market, quickly realizing you had no idea where you were going or what you were looking for. Hoping the Hand was in their port city was only a gamble. Odin had only told it it was in Asgard and not where it was in the realm. You were here, but really, you had no idea if it was here too. If the damed book really did exist, finding it would be nearly impossible. You were a thief at best when you could use your abilities — not that Odin knew that’s what you did — finding things had never been a part of the deal.

You needed to ask around, but you weren’t sure where to start so you wandered aimlessly, the weight of the pendant urging you on. It was only when you’d wandered so far into the market that you could barely smell the salt and fish that you felt it. Someone was watching you. You turned slowly, pretending to look at a necklace in the nearby booth, but whatever you’d felt was gone — or in hiding. You grit your teeth and moved on, resisting the urge to use your abilities to lose the tail.

Weaving through the crowd, you tried your best to lose the whatever tail might be following — that was, if someone actually was following you — while looking for anything that might lead you to a dark magic spell book that hadn’t been seen in centuries. Because of course you knew exactly what that was supposed to look like.

You were finally beginning to think you were paranoid when a nasally voice interrupted your thoughts.

“I don’t think I’ve seen you around here before.”

There was no doubt in your mind that he was talking to you even if you didn’t know anyone here. When you turned around, you were met with a small man who looked altogether too forgettable.He was short and thin and covered in dirt, with wiry unkempt hair that looked like it hadn’t been washed in weeks. His loose shirt and pants were rags that looked far more worn out than yours, riddled with so many hole they barely covered any skin. His only memorable feature were his eyes; bright green, practically glowing as if they belonged to someone far more extraordinary. He was so frail, you could have easily pushed past him, but you had a feeling that this was the man you’d felt following you. You wanted to know why.

You smiled politely, not wanting to pick a fight before you knew you had to, “are you sure? I come to the market every Thursday for peaches.”

“I’m sure I would have noticed you,” he grinned, revealing a mouth missing half his teeth, “this isn’t a large city, my dear.”

He was right about that. For all the mystery that surrounded Asgard since they closed their borders, there wasn’t much to the bland city with low rising buildings spread before a small palace. You wanted to believe there was more to the city than met the eye,but it just looked so…average.

He leaned up against the stall, knees buckling, “what are you looking for, dearie?”

“Who says I’m looking for anything?” you demanded too quickly.

“Well,” he hummed, “you are at a market.”

You forced a laugh, “oh, of course. I’m here to pick up silverware. I hear there’s a woman here who’s an incredible blacksmith.”

“I thought you came here for the peaches,” he picked up the fruit in his hand, green eyes gleaming.

He’s set up a trap and I’d fallen right in it. You swallowed, trying to think of something to say, but you’d never been the best liar. Your abilities meant you could go unnoticed most of the time and you’d never had much practice talking your way out of a bad situation — at least not in the last two hundred years. You were beginning to think you should have practiced a little more.

“Who says I didn’t come for both?” you finally countered.

He shrugged, “it’s possible, but I do think you’re here for something more.”

You struggled to keep breathing, afraid your heart had stopped working. Terrified to give anything away, you decided it was safer to ask the questions rather than answer them, “what do you think I’m here for?”

“If I told you what I thought it was, it would ruin all the fun,” he pushed off the stand with a wide grin.

“I don’t think we’re having fun,” you grit out.

“Shame,” he sighed, “I’ll leave you to your peaches and silverware then. Goodbye, YN.”

You froze but recovered fast enough to grab his arm, “how in the seven hells dow you know my name?”

The man stepped closer, peering up at you with satisfaction in his eyes. You were met with the stench of sewers and rotten meat but you were far too worried to take a step back. You didn’t know if you’d been caught — if you needed to run. At least he hadn’t used your real name. That much was a saving grace.”

“It’s in the tallest tower of the palace,” he leaned in further and you cringed, his sour breath heavy on your face, “it’s somewhere in the desk. Good luck.”

He backed off faster than you thought he could move, weaving behind the passing crowd and disappearing out of sight. Your eyes zeroed in on the tallest tower, though you kept glancing around the market to see if the strange man would return. The tower was half the height of the smallest towers in Niflheim and there was only one window toward the top, so there was no way you could miss it. It didn’t look like much, but maybe that was the point. That was if the stranger was actually talking about the Hand of Damnation. You couldn’t be sure, but your gut told you that he was telling the truth. You were also sure it was a trap. But trap or not, you needed that book. You were just going to have to be smart about how you evaded that trap.

~~~~~~~~

The brick was slippery beneath your feet, pouring rain and violent winds having come in from the sea without warning. Every step took more consideration an effort than the last, the soft pads of your boots useless and soaked through. Rain was a bad omen. It was a clear sign that you shouldn’t be here — that you shouldn’t have used your abilities, even if it had been necessary and for the briefest moment — tonight was the night. The Hand was apparently waiting for you inside the palace and that knowledge was worth the risk of superstitious fears.

Pulling yourself up and over the ledge of the turret, you crouched, watching the opposite window for any sign of life. The palace was lit up just enough for your human eyes to make out the massive desk within the office, but not much else. It wasn’t where you imagined you’d find the Hand, but really, it wasn’t like there was a designated place to hide powerful artefacts — no matter how much easier it would have made your job.

Your flimsy coat was drenched through by the time you were satisfied that the coast was clear and with a running leap, you clear the distance between this tower and the next, landing on the roof with a roll. You slid across the stone, head whipping up to make sure none of the guards had heard a thing. The rest of the city had seemed void of any protection, but as soon as you had gotten close to the palace you’d started seeing the soldiers roaming the grounds. You listened. The coast was clear. Tugging your hood back over your head, you crept over the ledge and down the wall, landing on the edge without a sound. You began to jimmy the lock, fingers slick and cold, fumbling with the mechanics. All of this was taking longer than you’d planned. You breathed in slowly, trying to steady your rising heart rate. When you didn’t think you could hang on any longer, the lock gave way, and you tumbled in.

You hit the floor with a resounding thud, the wood floors hard beneath the thin carpet. Your head snapped up, searching the darkness for any clue that someone might have heard. You hadn’t seen a soul in the room but that didn’t mean there weren’t people nearby. You listened but the only sound, other than your breathing, was the drone of a clock; a steady reminder that you were running out of time.

Pushing up from the floor, you squinted in the darkness, too afraid to light a candle just yet. Every step you took was silent but tentative. The pendant was heavy on your chest. You weren’t going to get another shot at this. There were no do-overs.

You let out a small sigh when your hands slid across the smooth wood paneling of the desk. You’d made it. You were here. Your relief didn’t last long. There was no forgetting that you still had to find it and make it back out alive.

After lighting a small candle from your satchel, you sifted through the desk drawers, looking for a small hidden compartment. You didn’t know what the book looked like, but you’d seen enough magical relics to know that they gave off some sort of aura that called to your magic. You’d know it when you got close enough. Or, at least, you hoped you would.

You forced yourself to close the last drawer slowly even though all you wanted to do was slam it shut. Drumming your fingers on the desk, fear crept in, settling deep in your stomach. Maybe you’d missed it. Maybe your information was wrong. Your gut had told you that the man was telling the truth, but the book was nowhere to be seen. You had no idea what to do next. You could search the rest of the palace, but the chances of finding it without getting caught were next to impossible. Going back empty handed wasn’t an option either. Maybe there was something else int he desk you could use to find the Hand.

“If you’re wondering what to do next,” a silky voice purred in the dark, “I can tell that the decision is no longer up to you.

There was no telling who the voice belonged to, but you knew two thing: he was at the opposite end of the room and he was very dangerous.

“You could run,” he continued, “but I can tell you for a fact that you won’t get out the window,”

You didn’t listen to the very obvious threat. Instead, you bolted to the window, knowing you could only get the Hand if you were alive. The only thing you could ear was the sound of your heart pounding in time with your steps. Your fingernails dug into the wood of the windowsill, scraping up and bending backward when it didn’t move an inch. Desperate, you tried again even though you knew it wouldn’t change anything. The windows were now sealed shut and the only explanation was magic. There was nothing you could do against magic.

You whirled around, searching the dark for any kind of weapon.

He let out a bored sigh, this time the sound coming from the other side of the room, “your only other route of escape is through the door, but you’re not sure where it is and again, I can assure you that I’ll reach it first. Your only other option is—”

“If you say death,” you interrupted with a snarl, your anger taking over fear, “I will kill you first.”

He chuckled, “I’m going to assume you’re lying and not incredibly delusional.”

“Want to find out?” you goaded, hoping he would approach so that you could finally figure out where he was in this damned room.

“Quite honestly, I am curious.”

The lamps snapped on, blinding you while your human eyes slowly readjusted. When your vision cleared, the only thing you could focus on was the fey man, lounging in a dark green arm chair as if it were his throne. He was handsome, a fact that annoyingly didn’t escape your notice, with sharp cheekbones and pointed ears sticking out from silky black hair. His emerald eyes, accentuated by the colour of the chair, were so bright they practically glowed as if they were lit up by a thousand lanterns. They narrowed slightly, his head dipping to take in every inch of what he saw, scanning from bottom to top, lingering wherever he pleased.

“If you don’t mind,” you declared, finally focusing your attention on the door — your one shot of getting out alive — behind him, “I’ll be going.”

The corner of his mouth curled into a wicked grin, “unfortunately, I do mind. See, you broke into my palace and I don’t know where you’re from, but that sort of thing is frowned upon around here.”

You clenched your jaw, focusing on your anger rather than the feeling of dread that was rising in your chest, “this is your palace?”

“Interesting that you don’t seem to know that,” he cocked his head a little more, “and I believe you’re telling the truth.”

“I’m not from here,” you muttered, taking a slow step toward the desk.

“So I’ve gathered and yet, you had the audacity to try and steal from me,” his eyes zeroed in your hand that was slowly reaching for the dagger at your thigh and you froze, “that’s terribly rude of you.”

You forced a smile, “my apologies. Next time I’ll know.”

“There won’t be a next time.”

Even if his words hadn’t been horribly ominous, his tone made you to whip out your dagger and point it at him, “let me go.”

He ignored the weapon, “where are you from, human?”

“Midgard,” you lied, choosing the most obvious of the nine realms.

“That’s awfully far,” he mused.

“Everything’s far when you’re the only island off the coast of the mainland,” you pointed out, hating the fact that it was true.

He shrugged, “I like my privacy. What more can I say?”

You wanted to throw your dagger at him. These people didn’t just like their privacy. They were cowards who’d basically sat out the last war and had closed their borders once it was over. They let their neighbouring realm burn to the ground, and this man had most likely been alive during the war. Seven hells, he might have even been king during that time. The thought alone almost ripped away what little control you had over your anger and abilities.

“Can’t fault you for that,” your attempted nonchalance was undercut by the fact that you’d spoken through gritted teeth, “but I think we’re done here.”

You weren't sure what your plan was as you walked to the door, but you were ready to fight anyone that got in your way, regardless of the fact that they all had powerful magic and you couldn’t use yours.

“I know you’re here for the book,” he was dead serious now, “it’s the only reason I get visitors from other realms. Everyone always tries to steal it.”

You paused, your hand on the doorframe. You couldn’t leave. Sure, you wanted to, but he’d just dangled the one bait you were too impulsive not to take.

“And how many of those people returned to their realms alive?” you asked.

There was no hesitation when he said, “none.”

You tried to ignore the nauseating sensation in your stomach and hoped you came across as flippant rather than nervous when you said, “what’s a rule without an exception?”

“Quite right,” he hummed, “quite right. Why do you want the Hand, human?”

“None of your business,” you growled, refusing to get Ava involved, “if you’re going to kill me, do it now.”

His brows furrowed, “but you haven’t heard my proposition yet.”

You eyed him warily, “Do I even want to know?”

“I believe so, but if you don’t want to listen willingly then…”

Pain burst in your stomach, folding you in half as all the air was sucked from your lungs. You choked like a fish out of water until he released whatever magic hold he had on you and you crumpled to the ground, dagger clattering to the ground.

“I’m listening,” you managed to grit out from the floor. 

He smirked, “good. I’m in a bit of a predicament. I’ve been ruling Asgard for some time now, but someone’s trying to steal my crown. They might very well succeed if I don’t do something about it.”

“Why don’t you just kill them?” you groaned as you pushed up to a stand, the pain gone _almost_ as quickly as it had come, “and not get me involved?”

He looked thoroughly unimpressed, “because that’s a crude and overdramatic method of solving problems that isn’t half as efficient as what I’ve come up with. And I don’t want to kill my sister,” he added as an afterthought as if his sister trying to steal the crown from him wasn’t a big deal.

You managed to stifle a sigh this time, “what do you want from me?”

“She’s reminded the council of an old practice that I thought disappeared the day she had. A law that incidentally, prevents me from being king,” he rolled his eyes, “according to the Old Laws, and I quote, ‘No man shall be king without proof that he is capable of love and capable of being loved. Without this ability, no man is fit to be a just and wise king’. I’m sure you’ve now gathered that I don’t have a queen.”

“I can’t see why,” you answered dryly.

He huffed a little laugh, “that’s where you come in, sweetheart.”

You couldn’t believe what you were hearing, “wait. You want me to marry you?”

“Not quite. That is a human tradition after all. I need you to pretend to be in love with me until our coronation at the beginning of the orange moon. Then, when I rightfully take back the crown, you’re free to fake your death and go along with your life.”

“And if I refuse?” You asked.

There was no way I would agree to this, especially that I only had another five moons to get the Hand. Despite his little show of magic, I was going to take my chances escaping rather than getting involved in his whole family drama. A dungeon sounded more appealing than that.

“You may not want to,” his voice was casual, but there was no mistaking the threat.

“So what? My options are death or pretend to love you? Are you really so unloveable that you need to resort to blackmailing a complete stranger?” You growled.

His eyes darkened, “I do what I have to for power. Consider yourself lucky. There are worse things than agreeing to this, and if you don’t, you’ll never see the _Hand of Damnation_ in your life.”

“Are you really so cruel?” You demanded, hoping to appeal to his sympathy because, with the Hand on the line, he had you. He was handing it to you on a silver platter and all you had to do was feign love for a few moons — even if it was to an arrogant coward like him.

“I need an answer,” he sighed, “it’s the middle of the night and my bed is calling me back.”

You had no choice and the two of you knew it. It seemed like you were destined to make deals with kings in order to survive and you hated it.

“Fine,” you snapped, “but as soon as you’re officially king, I get the Hand and I’m out of here.”

His lips pulled into a satisfied grin, “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

He stood with speed and grace no human could ever match and strode easily across the room until he stood before you. You extended your hand. He engulfed it with his, shook once and then pulled you in close so that he could whisper into your ear, “if this doesn’t work, you don’t get the book. Enjoy being queen, sweetheart.”

You shoved him away, crossed your arms and glared at him, “what now?”

“Now, I show you to your room.”

You didn’t want to follow him. What you wanted, more than anything — even more than to give this obnoxious king a taste of his own medicine — was to escape through the window, grab Ava and vanish to some uncharted realm. But if you could have done it before now, you would have. You knew that if you wanted the Hand and your revenge, you were going to have to play their stupid games. Or, you realized, play them just long enough to find the Hand first.

He led you through the dark corridors, the small candles on the the walls lighting up and extinguishing as you walked past. The act was enough to amaze you and you tried not to look around in awe, especially that he didn’t seem to be breaking a sweat doing it.

On the boat ride here, you’d tried to learn more about Asgard and the magic the Fey harnessed, but after the war, very few people who had been alive when their borders were open had wanted to say anything. The rumours about Asgard ranged from oasis to one of the seven hells. You were praying for your sister’s sake that you didn’t have to pretend to be in love with the king of the seven hells.

You didn’t cross anyone else on the way, though you had the impression that, although it was the middle of the night, he was taking the smaller corridors to avoid any chance encounter. You expected him to say something, anything to fill the silence that shrouded you like a cloud, but he strolled through the halls without looking back once to see if you were following. If he was worried you’d try and take off or stab him in the back, he didn’t show it. And honestly, you doubted he was. You weren’t deluded enough to think you could escape him any more now than you could in the office.

He stopped in front of a plain wooden door.

“I’ll give you the choice,” he began, leaning up against the wall and crossing his arms over his chest.

“How kind,” you interrupted with an eye roll, “nice to know that it won’t only be blackmail from now on.”

He let out a little huff as if he thought this whole thing was funny, “if it were blackmail, you wouldn’t be getting anything in return.

“Semantics,” you grumbled.

“Rather important ones,” he countered, “but aren’t you at all curious to know what your choices are?”

You waved a hand, motioning for him to go ahead and offer your two wonderful choices.

He patted the door like an old friend, “the room here is yours. It has everything you need, except a lock on the door. It also connects to my room, which is the next door over.”

You weren’t keen on the idea of sleeping in the adjoining room even if you were supposed to convince a council of people that you were in love with this man — especially when there was no guarantee he wouldn’t barge in whenever he wanted.

You pursed your lips, “what’s the other option?”

His lips spread into a wolfish grin, “you’re always invited to stay with me.”

You wrenched the door open and stomped inside. The room looked empty despite the massive bed, multiple dressers and standing mirror in the corner. You were pretty sure there were houses smaller than this. Doors on either sides of the room probably led, one to his room, and the other to a bathroom. The decorations were simple, dark red and cream walls lined with silver mouldings, set against dark chestnut floors. It was a beautiful room, but the sight made you nauseous. You stared out the far window — that curiously hadn’t been fitted with bars across it — as if you could see all the way to Ava in Niflheim. You would get each other out of this. You would get your revenge. If this extravagant room and faking love was the way out, then you had to be thankful that it wasn’t anything worse. Although you couldn’t say that some part of you didn’t wish there was someone you could fight for the book instead.

“I’ll come find you first thing in the morning,” he said, peeking his head around the doorframe, “just to make sure you haven’t run off in the middle of the night.”

You crossed your arms, water dripping into your pants, “it’s already past the middle of the night.”

“Then I would suggest you get to it if you plan on leaving,” with another infuriating smirk, he shut the door.

You listened until you heard the neighbouring door open and shut. There was little movement and the silence stretched on long enough that you deemed it safe to go examine the window. It was a stained-glass thing that would probably look nice in the morning, and the bottom three panes had small latches above them. You twisted one slowly, holding your breath until the window popped open, a cool breeze wafting in. Your inhale, although shaky, was the first real one you’d taken since you’d broken into the palace and you let out a long sigh. The air was crisp and smelled like dew and something else tat tugged on a far away memory you couldn’t quite place.

The window looked out into what seemed to be a closed courtyard, but you knew there had to be a way out. The ground was close enough that if you did it right, you’d survive the fall without injury. You could leave. If you wanted to, you could leave through the window and find a way out of this palace in the dead of night. But you didn’t have the hand and realistically, you had no idea what kind of magic warding the palace. After all, he’d known you’d broken into his palace when you could have sworn you hadn’t trigged any kind of alarm, even if you had used your abilities for no more than a heart-wrenching second.

There was so much you didn’t know about here, about him, about why Odin wanted the Hand in the first place. You had so many questions you could practically feel the weight of them like a heavy cloak. Seven hells, you didn’t even know each other’s names. The thought almost made you jump out the window. Everything was riding on convincing this council that we were madly in love and yet, for the life of you, you couldn’t tell anyone his name. You shivered, your wet clothes clinging to you like a second skin. How in the gods names was this going to work?

~~~~~~~

Loki stared at the ceiling, still wondering if he’d done the right thing. She was the one, he was sure of it, but he had no idea how or why, of all people, he’d been given her name. He definitely hadn’t been expecting a human when he’d pictured the person attached to the name YN. It wasn’t ideal. Asgard had never had a human queen and he knew that convincing the council that they were in love wouldn’t be easy. If he was being honest, he wasn’t even sure she’d survive until the orange moon.

He rubbed his face and tried not to let himself get discouraged. She was important, he knew that much. He just had to trust that he was doing the right thing by making her the solution to his regency.

The sound of the window opening in the adjacent room caught his attention and he waited to see if she would take off. He wouldn’t stop her if she did. If she couldn’t stay by choice, they’d never have a chance at convincing the council. And judging by the way she looked like she wanted to kill them for most of their conversation, he would say their chances were already pretty slim. He wouldn’t blame her either, after the stunt he’d pulled in the office.

Loki listened as she moved around the room, his Fey hearing letting him to know that she was exploring the room, opening drawers and searching for who knew what. Strangely, the noises comforted. At least he knew that she had some sort of fight in her. She’d need it.

As if there weren’t a million other more pressing thoughts in his head, the sound of her opening the bathroom door made him realize that he’d need to bring her clothes tomorrow. What she had looked like it would disintegrate at any moment and he had a feeling there was nothing but weapons in that tiny satchel of hers. But until he could bring her to the seamstress, he figured she’d have to make do with whatever his court had to spare.

The thought seemed trivial compared to Hella’s scheming and the eminent war that Gamora had forseen, but at least it was something to focus on that didn’t make him want to spend the afternoon sparing until he was so sore he couldn’t walk. Loki couldn’t shake the feeling that what he was doing wouldn’t be enough to save his people, but at least he could push it to the back of his mind and focus on the problems he could fix. Like the fact that now that had her in the palace, his court would demand to know everything and would probably have a million things to say about it. Loki sunk a little deeper into his mattress. They could wait until tomorrow. He’d be no use to anyone exhausted anyways. Eventually, he heard the bathroom door open again and then nothing on her side. With only a couple hours until daylight, Loki knew he should try and find sleep as well.


	3. Breakfast with a King, How Romantic.

When Loki awoke a little before dawn, his body felt unnaturally tired but he ignored the feeling and pushed out of bed. It was nothing a little coffee and breakfast wouldn’t cure and he got ready for another day of fending off the vultures that were his council. He stopped for a moment, half dressed, reminding himself to breathe. Walking out of his room as anything other than king would only jeopardize everything he’d been working toward.

Before leaving for the kitchen, he listened for any sound that YN might be awake. The silence reassured him that she wasn’t about to walk out of her room and ruin his entire plan before he had a chance to properly put in place. He didn’t want the council getting wind of her arrival before the pre-dinner drinks tonight.

The hallways were empty at this hour and he was thankful he could mosey over to the kitchen through hooded lids and heavy steps. Loki basked in the silence until laughter burst from the kitchen, letting him know his court was already there. He had been hoping to get something in his stomach before answering all their questions, but they’d beat him here. The thought of going back to bed crossed his mind, but he rarely had all of them in the palace at the same time and knew he had to catch Bucky before his assassin disappeared for the next few days.

Bucky smirked when Loki walked in, “rough night?”

The Dark Elf was in a good mood this morning, the brollochan that shrouded him like dark smoke wafting further away from him than usual. The air around Bucky was cold and dead, but the morning bustle of the cooks and the heat of the kitchen smothered most of it — one of the few reasons they spent more time in here than in any of their offices. Bucky took a bite of his muffin, pale blue eyes assessing then took his booted feet off the table and sat up straighter. Loki had been hoping he’d be able to pretend nothing had happened last night until he’d eaten something, but nothing got past his assassin.

“What happened?” Bucky asked, light-hearted grin gone.

The tone caught his commander’s attention. The angel righted, breaking off her conversation with Gamora to come a little closer. Gamora stayed where she was, a knowing little smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. She knew exactly what was going on, but she’d be no help to him, choosing to sit back and enjoy the show instead.

Loki’s master of information cocked her head curiously with a kind of calm opposite to the tense energy that radiated from his assassin and commander. He nodded at Wanda and took in a deep breath.

“Can I get myself a coffee before the interrogation begins?” Loki asked.

Nebula raised a brow, tucking in her metallic, indigo wings to let him go by, “that’s already your second this week.”

“Next week I won’t have any,” he grumped, then tried to soften his tone, knowing the coffee and chocolate rations weren’t any more her fault than his own, “I found YN.”

Everyone stopped moving.

“Where is she?” Nebula, never one to be stunned for long, was all business, her mind already going through a million different scenarios.

Loki knew he was about to be scolded so her turned toward the counter to make his coffee, “sleeping in the princess’ room.”

“And you didn’t think to wake any of us?” she snapped, “just because that _thing_ gave us her name doesn’t mean that YN isn’t a threat to us.”

“I’m pretty sure he knows that, Neb,” Bucky chuckled, shooting her a teasing grin that earned him a punch on the arm, “Loki can take of himself…Or at least I hope he can. And anyways, if we’ve never heard of her, she can’t be all that powerful a fey.”

Loki only tensed for a second but he should have known they wouldn’t miss it.

“She is Fey, right?” Wanda asked warily.

Loki turned around slowly, his court’s eyes all on him with an intensity he knew was justified. They’d been trying to find YN for over two moons now and when they’d concocted this fake queen plan, they had always assumed she would be Fey. Convincing the council that Loki had a love he’d been keeping secret for all this time and been near impossible when he’d only had a name to go on. Finding her, only to realize she was human, didn’t make things much easier.

He shook his head.

Wanda bounced her fork up and down off her other thumb, “what is she?”

Gamora answered before Loki could, “human.”

They all whirled to face her. Loki was about to ask her why she hadn’t warned any of them about this if she’d seen what YN was, but she pressed before he had a chance to.

“No I didn’t see it,” she snapped as if she’d read his mind, “I saw her wandering the halls on my way here, and unless she’s an elemental, she looked very much human to me.”

Loki’s heart dropped in his chest.

“You let her roam free?” Nebula shouted incredulously, her wings flaring slightly.

He winced, “technically, I left her in her room.”

Bucky grinned, a look that earned him a deadly stare from Nebula, “you’re off to a great start with your future queen,” he laughed.

“We won’t have a future queen if she’s wandering around the palace and gets caught by the wrong people,” she chided, “is that what you two fangslugs want?”

Bucky tossed her a a bread roll that she caught deftly mid-flight, “between the five of us, I think we can find one human.”

Loki gulped down his scalding coffee and was about to rush out but was hit with a thought before he could make it past the door.

He spun to face his court, “no one approaches her for now. She’s human in a realm full of Fey and a palace full of council members who won’t hesitate to make her life miserable. I don’t want her scaring.”

“Don’t you think a friendly face would help?” Wanda pointed out, sliding the pad of butter to the least friendly face there.

Nebula scowled.

Bucky crossed his arms, a cheeky grin on his face, “I don’t know what you mean? We’re friendly.”

Loki couldn’t help but chuckle, “somehow I doubt a human will find any of you friendly looking.”

“If she walks into the library and finds me,” Maximoff said, grinning along with the rest of them, “there’s nothing I can do about it. I’m just doing my job.”

Loki knew that out of all of them, Wanda’s human-like appearance probably made her the least threatening. He nodded thoughtfully, “Maximoff, do your thing. If she finds you fine, but don’t seek her out. Everyone else, give her space.”

Wanda gave him a thumbs up, “sure. You’d better go find her, Laufeyson. Who knows where this _terrified_ human you’ve brought to our palace has ended up.”

Loki rolled his eyes at Wanda’s sass but knew she was right. He needed to find YN before she did something incredibly stupid.

~~~~~~~

The halls were quiet this early in the morning, but you did cross several maids as you roamed. Few had looked up as you’d walked past and the ones that did, didn’t let show that there was anything strange with your being here.

You were surprised you’d managed to get some sleep after what had happened last night. The only explanation was that you’d never slept in a bed so comfortable in your life and that it had somehow managed to combat your whirling mind. Once you’d woken up though, you knew there was no point staying in bed. If you could find the Hand before the king found you, then you could be out of here before you had to fulfill your end of the bargain. And that was a gamble you were willing to take.

The pendant was heavy against your chest and you had the sinking feeling that it was colder than it was yesterday. You stopped at an intersection in the corridors, twirling it between your fingers, trying to settle the mix of anger and fear bubbling up inside you. You felt rooted to the floor, lost in a maze of hallways, wearing a stranger’s clothes you’d found last night in a drawer. You didn’t know what you were doing. You wanted Nat at your side. You wanted to know that she was safe and that everything would be okay. You wanted to know that all the time you’d be spending here wouldn’t make everything worse, but you knew all those wishes were in vain. The two of you had barely been managing for too long now, and your luck was bound to run out sometime. You couldn’t help but feel terrified that the sometime was now.

You stopped picking at the skin on your lip, rolled your shoulders back and jut up your chin. It wasn’t much more than the illusion of confidence, but the act made you feel a little better anyways. Worrying and complaining would only set you in the wrong direction. _Pick a destination and steer toward it, my little lion._ The memory of his voice steadied your heart and you focused on your two choices: find the Hand or pretend to be the future queen of Asgard. No pressure either way, right? You snorted. Right.

“Do you always mutter to yourself?” he asked.

You jumped. You hadn’t even heard him come up and you definitely didn’t realize you’d been talking out-loud. You closed your eyes, not wanting to turn around just yet. Deep down, you knew he’d find you. You’d just hoped it wouldn’t have been this soon.

“Was there anywhere in particular you were planning on going?” the king continued once he realized you weren’t going dignify your muttering with an answer.

“No,” you sighed, “just somewhere that wasn’t with you.”

“Unfortunately for you, the whole point of this thing is for us to be seen together,” he pointed out, “and before someone kicks you out of the palace for not knowing who you are, I would recommend that more people see us together.”

You turned, “stellar plan, king of Asgard. Did you come up with that all on your own?”

He raised a brow.

He stood a few paces in front of you, dressed in a dark tunic, looking fresh as a daisy with his damp hair neatly slicked back. His expression flirted the line between bored and curious as if there was nothing in the world that could faze someone like him — other than maybe his sister trying to steal the throne from him, and even then, he’d been so flippant about it, you didn’t doubt for a second he was used to getting his way all the time. A coward and a spoiled brat. You were going to have to find the Hand before this sham of a coronation, because you weren’t sure how convincing you’d manage to be.

“I did think of it _all by myself_ ,” he said, “but it would have been more if effective if it had occurred to _you_ first.”

You crossed your arms, “maybe I wanted to get kicked out.”

“Then why didn’t you leave last night?” he asked, the beginnings of an infuriating smirk tugging at his lips.

“I wanted to sleep in a comfy bed,” you retorted, but even to your ears, you knew it was weak.

You both knew that you had no reason to leave.

Seeming satisfied that he’d won, he said, “you must be hungry.”

You didn’t know why your first instinct was to refuse him, but you knew it was a stupid reaction. Just because you didn’t want anything to do with him didn’t mean that you were going to let yourself starve. Letting him feed you wasn’t letting him win — your pride wasn’t going to get in the way of basic necessities. Your stomach answer before you could anyways.

He nodded at the sound, “there’s a quiet terrace in the city that serves delicious breakfast if you’d like to eat there.”

“In view of a whole bunch of people?” you mocked.

“Very few, actually, and all regular citizens. I didn’t think you’d enjoy being the centre of attention on your first day here, but if you’re up and looking for trouble, we can always go down to the dinning hall and eat with the soldiers,” he replied with a wicked grin.

“That’s fine,” you grumbled. It wasn’t that you didn’t think you could handle the attention. You just didn’t think it was worth the effort.

“Really?” he half turned as he was ready to head there right away, “it’s no trouble.”

You snorted and pushed past him. Then you quickly realized that you had no idea where in the seven hells you were going. Gritting your teeth, you turned around and to find a fully-fledged arrogant smirk on his lips. You tried not to let your anger get the best of you and motioned for him to lead the way even though it killed you to do it. He pursed his lips as if he was trying not to laugh. You forced a long inhale through your nose, ignoring the itchy feeling at the base of your spine.

“We’ll need to get you more clothes,” he said, glancing at your makeshift outfit as he strolled down the hallway, “it wasn’t today’s plan, but seeing as we’ll be near there, we can stop after breakfast.”

You ignored his pointed tone and took note of the way you were going, doing your best to orient yourself in the maze of hallways that all looked the same. The route you were taking didn’t seem the most direct, but did seem more deserted than some of the others you’d walked down. You tried to convince yourself that he wasn’t doing it to confuse you but it was hard to when he’d just finished saying how we should be seen together.

“Am I going to be able to do anything on my own?” you demanded, suddenly realizing that _you_ were going somewhere with him after breakfast.

He stopped and listened, turning in the opposite direction of where you’d been heading as if he was avoiding something. Yet, his voice was casual when he said, “most of the time.”

You were only partly relieved. You were still going to have to go through a slew of theatrics to get the Hand. You were still going to have to pretend to be in love with him. You were still going to have to be queen…You didn’t know why the thoughts were running through your head now even though you’d agreed to them last night. This was real. This was happening. You were going to have to behave like a queen. You were going to have to behave like a woman in lov—

“I think we should set ground rules,” you blurted.

He raised a brow.

“Limits,” you supplied, “you know, boundaries. Respect. Or is that not a thing here?”

“Why don’t we wait until we’re out of the palace to discuss these matters.”

It was phrased as a question, but there was a warning in his voice. You nodded, realizing he had a point. There might not have been anyone around at the moment, but you weren’t going to get caught because of something this stupid. The surprise on his face when you didn’t say anything made you want to call him a whole slew of names. You were smart enough to figure things out and knew how to hold your tongue when you had to — even if you hadn’t done a very good job of it so far around him.

He led you through gates you hadn’t noticed on your break in, heading out the back of the palace. You tried to decipher what part of the city you were walking into, but it was nothing like the port market. Actually, it looked like you’d just stepped into a completely different realm.

The palace was set at the top of a massive valley, with a maze of streets and colourful building sprawling down the jungled mountain sides to a wide river at its base.The streets were made of pale yellow cobblestone that practically growled in the early morning sun, the narrow streets winding dangerously down the hill.

Beautiful, lush vines with orange flowers lined the tops of buildings, their fragrance mingling with the smell of morning dew, and their rooftops made of some kind of metal that reflected the sun and made it look as if the old gods had lit them on fire. The houses and shops were dyed bright purples, yellows, and turquoise and the air crackled with magic, hope and possibilities.

Despite the hour, a number of people were milling about, already up and ready for their day. Most of the citizens were Fey, but there were Dwarves, Elves, a few demons and you were sure, the longer you walked through the streets, that you’d see people from all 9 realms. Most of the nodded their ‘hello’s when they saw him and continued on their way with a bright smile. No one seemed surprised to see the king strolling through their streets. If the streets in Niflheim ever looked like this, it could only have been during a time when Odin wasn’t king. You inhale the warm weather and the peaceful energy of these people, trying not to be angry at them for a decision their king made hundreds of yers ago.

“This is Natalos,” he explained, taking you down a smaller alley, “it’s Asgard’s capitol city and it can only be accessed through the palace. There are a few other cities on the island, but mainly, everyone lives here. The city is naturally protected by the valley walls and the river. Those of us of at the palace guard the only other way in.”

You tried to ignore your surprise. Just because these people had built their city in a way that put their king on the front lines didn’t excuse them for cowering in the first place. In an attempt to conceal your emotions, you asked a different question.

“What was the market I walked into?”

He smirked, “a market. The vendors here trade with outsiders whenever they need supplies but they can do so in a space that keeps their homes and their families far away from possible threats.”

You clenched your jaw, trying and failing to keep your face impassive. He knew there were threats. He’d made all of you outsiders and left you to those threats. You wanted to shake him. You wanted to ask what in the seven hells he’d been thinking during the war, but the peaceful city around you was your answer. Their home was intact and they had the ability to keep it that way with magic — magic far beyond your comprehension. You tried to swallow the lump in your throat and you couldn’t take a deep breath to save your life. You were so far out of your league without your abilities. You’d gotten used to only relying on your human senses, but you couldn’t even trust those here. You tried to tell yourself that this was no different than being in Odin’s palace, but for some reason, it wasn’t working. You could feel yourself panicking and you didn’t know how to stop it.

“For someone who broke into a palace guarded by magic and then preceded to point a dagger at me, you seem awfully worried about a simple breakfast,” he commented, stopping in front of a tiny door.

You didn’t bother with an answer and focused on your breathing, especially that the same dagger he was talking about was tucked into your boot. That particular thought eased your pounding heart. He shrugged and lead the way, bending over in half to fit through the door. There were a few tables in the dimly lit restaurant, all of which were already filled with people and steaming plates of food. A young dwarf who didn’t look past the age of thirty approached with a warm smile for the king. Her long black hair was tied back in a series of intricate braids and she had an apron pulled over her simple shirt and pants.

“You’re here earlier than expected, King Laufeyson,” she said by way of greeting, her voice surprisingly deep, even for a dwarf.

He took her hand gently in his, “my apologies. Something unexpected happened this morning. I hope we haven’t caused you any inconveniences.”

He didn’t look at you, but it wasn’t hard to guess that you were the something that had happened this morning. At least now I had something of a name for him.

“Always so polite our king,” she looked you up and down with a pleased little grin on her face, “come. I’ve prepared the terrace as you asked.”

You followed her out the back door and your breath caught in your throat. You had spent so long living in Flaik that you had almost forgotten what lush jungles were like, their massive trees acting like tent filtering the light through leaves like liquid gold. Everything was such a deep green, with only a few flowers in bloom this time of year. The sight almost brought tears to your eyes. You had been so sure you would never see anything that resembled home ever again and you took in a deep breath as if you could hold a piece of your surroundings inside of you. It wasn’t quite like home, but it was close.

You opened your eyes, not realizing that you’d closed them. He was staring at you, his hands on the back of his chair, his head cocked to the side. You glared at him and sat down. He rolled his eyes and took a seat in front of you.

“I’ll be back with water,” the dwarf said, glancing between the two of you with that same knowing smirk on her face.

“Thank you, Volula,” he murmured, leaning back in his chair as if it was a sofa.

Laufeyson didn’t say anything, staring at you. He was all cheekbones and sharp edges and looked far too pretty for his own good. His eyes, almost glowing green against the jungle, gave away nothing more than faint amusement. You would have said he was bored if you hadn’t been able to feel the energy in the air, drawn tight as if he was a wolf stalking its prey.

“Your population is very diverse,” you said when you couldn’t take the silence any longer.

He shrugged as if the war hadn’t made all the realms wary of one another, and opened his menu,“it just happened that way.”

Your fingers tightened around the fork you had unwittingly started playing with. You forced yourself to let it go gently and place your hands on your lap where he couldn’t see them.

“What about the population where you’re from? he asked, keeping his eyes on the menu.

“We’re not going there,” you warned.

“So I’m not going to know anything about you? Seems like a great plan,” he said, folding his menu shut, “but, as long as it convinces the council, it’s fine with me.”

“Good.”

“Good.”

You held his gaze, daring him to tell you that this wasn’t going to work unless you told him every single detail about your life, but he didn’t push like you thought he would, eventually raising a brow as if it was your turn to say something. It only made you trust him less. Who let a complete stranger — a thief at that — become queen of their realm without knowing a single thing about them? There had to be hundreds of other women who would gladly do it. It didn’t make sense and you hated that you had no idea what he was planning.

Volula came back, a bright smile on her face, “have we decided yet?”

Laufeyson tilted his head, looking to you as if you’d been the one she was talking to. You hadn’t even looked at the menu, but you weren’t about to ask him for advice.

“I’ll take your most popular breakfast,” you answered with a polite smile.

She nodded and turned to the king, “the usual?”

He smiled, “that would be wonderful. Thank you.”

She let you know that she would be back soon with the food and busied off to one of the other tables on the terrace. You searched for the anxiety that was always palpable whenever Odin was around civilians, but there was nothing like that here. Everyone had seen the king walk in, but no one had paid him much attention other than the pleasant smiles as we had walked by. Even the other customers eating on the terrace as well were either focused on their food or their conversations.

“Why are we doing any of this?” you asked, “it’s clear these people are fine with you being their king.”

“Old laws. The council have always had the power to decide who's king. Apparently they know better than their people,” he said.

You couldn’t help but be surprised that he’d show his feelings about his court so obviously, “you might want to keep the disdain out of your voice the next time you see them. They are in charge of your regency.”

“I’ll do my best,” he learned further back in his chair, “especially that the next time I do will be with you.”

You groaned, “tell me that won’t be any time soon.”

“Tonight. Drinks and appetizers before dinner,” he huffed a little laugh, “don’t look too enthusiastic.”

“Because drinks with a bunch of stuffy old men sounds fun,” you retorted.

He tipped forward, letting his chair fall back onto all four legs again, “how do you know they’re old men?”

You sighed, Odin’s council coming to mind, “aren’t they always?”

He chuckled, though you had the impression there was nothing he found funny about the whole situation, “seems they are.”

Volula came back with your food before you could ask him more about the council. She set a steaming bowl of grey mush that had a strangely greenish hue to it in front of Laufeyson and plate filled with scrambled eggs, fruit —- some of which you’d never seen before — a small bread roll and a little bowl filled with a dark purple liquid you couldn’t identify.

“It’s for the bread,” she said with a wink, “enjoy the meal.”

Tentatively, you ripped a small piece off the loaf and dipped it into the liquid. You looked up at Lauefeyson and he nodded encouragingly. You eyed him warily and he rolled his eyes again, digging into his mush. When you finally gained the courage to pop it into your mouth. It was tangy but sweet, an eruption of flavours you couldn’t name, and paired with the airy texture of the bread, it was amazing. It was so good, you dipped your eggs into the sauce just to see what it would be like. You weren’t disappointed. Laufeyson had his head dipped down, eyes focused on his breakfast, but you could see a faint smile on his lips. You wanted to tell him off, but really he hadn’t done anything. And anyways, you were starving.

“You wanted to talk ground rules?” he asked after another few bites.

You nodded and swallowed your bite, “I’m not doing any of this without a few precautions.”

He scraped the last of his putrid look slop from the bowl, “what did you have in mind?”

You hadn’t forgotten his little show last night, and although there wasn’t even the faintest echo of pain, you weren’t interested in going through anything like that ever again.

“You don’t use magic on me,” you warned, “ever.”

He held your gaze, body relaxed when he said, “I wasn’t planning on it.”

If he was lying, his assurance and ease made him damed convincing . Still, it didn’t mean you believed him. You knew he wouldn’t tell you the truth if he was lying so there was no point in dwelling on his answer.

“And no physical affect unless it’s absolutely necessary,” you added, staring him down, “and if possible, I want a heads up before it happens.”

“Romanic,” he chuckled, leaning back into his chair again.

You crossed your arms, “it’s part of my terms.”

“It’s fine,” he said with a little wave of his hand, “anything else?”

“Not for now. But just to be clear, all I have to do is convince them we’re in love, right?” you asked, still trying to wrap your head around the situation. You’d never been in love and you’d never seen the appeal of it, but if you had ever imagined what it would look like, faking it to some foreign king with Nat’s life on the line wasn’t exactly it.

He readjusted the spoon in his bowl, changing it from the right side to the left, “right.”

You shook your head. He was so casual about everything and all you could do was ask as many questions as you could think of to try and kill the sneaking suspicion that this half-baked plan was doomed to fail, “and all this is because your sister wanted the throne.”

“Yes.”

“Who’s the rightful heir?” You pushed on, searching his face for more information than his one-worded answers gave you.

His face remained impassive but he took a second to long to answer, “technically she is, but the position fell to me years ago.”

You weren’t going to ask what he meant by years, not wanting to know whether or not he’d been king during the war. If you were going to pretend to love him, you didn’t need another reason to hate him.

“Why not leave it to her if it’s her birthright?”

“Why not keep it?” he countered, tucking his hands into his pockets, “you said it yourself. Everyone’s fine with me being king.”

“That’s not an answer,” you pointed out, observing him closely.

He shrugged and changed the subject, “if you’re done, we’ll head to the seamstress.”

“Great,” you muttered, thought it didn’t escape your notice that his sister was definitely a touchy subject.

He smirked, “again, your enthusiasm is contagious.”

“Excuse me for not being excited about a deal I was blackmailed into by a man who’s name I don’t even know,” you whisper yelled, leaning forward across the table, barely able to control yourself, “right after going through a set of rules to impress a set of snobby old men because of your conniving sister.”

He looked like he was going to say something then stopped and looked out into the jungle. He nodded slowly, took in a long, deep breath and turned back to face you.

“Loki. Lauefeyson,” he extended his hand — a human gesture, “it’s nice to meet you.”

You nodded and stared at his hand. When the silence droned on, he leaned in closer so that we were both hovering above the table, “I will need to know your name, sweetheart.”

“When you do, you’d better use it because you ‘sweetheart’ isn’t convincing anyone,” you grit out.

His lips pulled into a wicked grin, “I think it is, sweetheart.”

“YN,” you snapped, backing off, “YLN.”

He stood from the table, leaning casually on the back of the chair, “are you ready to go, YLN.”

You sighed, “if I have to.”


	4. What in the Seven Hells is a Junabee?

The seamstress was in a beautiful house, which overlooked the river down below. It reminded you of the type of houses in the book of fairy tales you and Nat used to have; tall and spindly, and reminiscent of a pine tree. It was the same luscious green as the surrounding flora and had over a dozen tiny stained-glass windows that glowed like emeralds in the sun. You’d never seen anything like and it, and you couldn’t help but stare a little too long.

Loki knocked on the door and took a step back, hands clasped behind him as you waited. The black, double doors were much bigger than the one at the restaurant, and you were pretty sure that meant a Dwarf wouldn’t be greeting you this time. You couldn’t help but feel a little curious, a lot of dread and somewhat excited to see who would greet you.

A strong, broad shouldered Fey woman opened the door, a cat-like grin spreading across her face as she took in the king. Her chestnut hair was braided back and out of her face, but the rest was loose around her shoulders in tight curls. She was dressed in black from head to toe, pants tucked into knee high boots, paired with an intricate top that looked more like armour. Had you passed this woman on the street you would have assumed she was a warrior and not a seamstress. Even standing before her now, you weren’t sure you were at the right place.

Loki took her hand in his and pressed a kiss to the back of it, an equally wicked smirk on his lips.

“Valkyrie, I’m so glad you could make room for us on such short notice,” he practically purred, “we appreciate it.”

“You were just lucky someone canceled at the last minute,” she said with a wink, “I don’t make exceptions for anyone, least of all you, Loki.”

He let a breathy little laugh, the two of them obviously good friends, if not something more. If there was, it wasn’t like you didn’t get it. She was beautiful. Honestly, they both were.

Her gaze slid toward me and her grin morphed into something a little less playful and much softer, “and you must be the mysterious future queen I’ve heard about,” she dipped her head, “it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Likewise,” you said through a tight smile.

This was the first time someone other than Loki had mentioned the actual consequences to this deal and you weren’t sure you liked it. Queen… You weren’t meant to be queen. Ever. How in Cerdwen’s were you supposed to be queen? You shoved the thought to the back of your mind. There was no point thinking about it and freaking yourself out more. You just needed to keep pretending like you could actually do this.

Anyways, she was a seamstress, not a council member whose opinion could change everything. You had to assume that Loki must have brought you into the city to practice your act around people who’s opinions didn’t affect your fates, but even if he hadn’t, you were glad for the excuse to learn how to play the role.

“I’ve heard so many great things about your talent, Miss Valkryie,” you lied, settling into the part as best you could, “I can’t imagine having gone to anyone else. It’s just _so nice_ to have finally met you.”

“You’re too kind,” she waved away the compliment, but her eyes narrowed slightly. You held your breath, afraid she could see right through you until she motioned for you to follow her in, “but I do have some pieces I’m sure you’ll like.”

The walls on one side of the hallway were painted navy while the other side was painted a dark green, all trimmed with gold mouldings and decorated with paintings of men and women in extravagant clothes. There were rooms branching off to either sides. The layout of the house was far bigger than you’d assumed from the outside. You couldn’t help but wonder who this woman was exactly. The riches of this home were beyond ordinary…weren’t they? You clenched your jaw in an attempt to hide your anger. If these people had homes like these then they had the means to help any one of the other realms who were still rebuilding. Yet they hid on their island like the rest of us didn’t matter. Odin was a monster, stroking the embers of hatred that sizzled in his realm, mounting them to a burning fire that destroy the seven others. But these people — the Fey — they could do something about it. Instead, they just sat in their riches and their magic, doing nothing. You were thankful neither of them could see your face.

You entered a room that might not have seemed small if it hadn’t been stacked with books from floor to wall on every side except for the one you’d entered through. There was large wooden desk in the corner, cluttered with papers and scraps of fabrics and in the centre, a pedestal with two small poof seats in the opposite corner.

“Remind me again what you’re looking for, Loki,” she motioned for the two of you to take a seat.

You stayed standing keeping an eye on her and door. Loki shrugged and gracefully eased onto the cushion, legs sprawled out in front of his as if he was in his own home. You glanced between the two of them, trying to figure out what exactly their relationship was, but both of their faces were impossible to read. The only thing you knew for sure was that these two had known each other for hundreds of years.

“Other than a few formal gowns, I would suggest you ask Ms. YLN,” his gaze slid over to you, eyes lit up with mischief, “the choice is hers.”

You barely restrained from scoffing. Like you had any choices in the deal.

Valkyrie turned to face you, surprising you with a genuine looking smile on her face, “Come then. I think I’ve got ideas you might like. Do you want your future king to join us?”

Valkyrie probably had no idea that she’d just asked the best question possible. Or maybe, judging by the sly grin on her face, she had. You didn’t know if that immediately made you want to trust her or the exact opposite.

“Actually, I was hoping it could be a surprise,” you chirped, “he really doesn’t need to stay.”

Loki let his head loll back, looking at you through hooded eyes with a slight, knowing grin on his lips, “of course. Enjoy yourselves. I’ll be back soon, sweetheart.”

He stood with efficiency and speed unmatched by most of the other races. When his back was to Valkyrie, he shot you a pointed look. You narrowed your eyes but quickly made sure to smooth out your features before Valkyrie could get wind of what was going on.

When he was out of sight and the door had closed behind him, you felt a shimmer of magic and wondered if Valkyrie felt it too. If she did, she didn’t say anything. You had a feeling that whatever it was, it was a precaution to make sure you wouldn’t sneak off again.

“I see you like to dress to move around,” was the first thing she said.

You couldn’t help but look down at the plain black pants and dirt brown sweater as if you’d forgotten you’d been wearing borrowed clothes all morning.

“I need to be able to move,” you answered gruffly.

She nodded, “I get it. This world hasn’t been easy, especially to humans.”

“And what would you know about the world being unkind?” you snapped, the riches of her home mocking you.

“This realm was at war like every other hundreds of years ago,” her voice was barely louder than a whisper, but there was nothing soft in her voice, “just because we haven’t had it the hardest doesn’t mean we don’t know hardship.”

Something about the haunted look on her face made you feel stupid about your outburst and you cursed yourself again for not being able to keep your emotions in check. Valkyrie barely looked older than you did, but she spoke like she’d lived through the war — seven hells, judging by the way she wore her clothes like armour,she might have even fought in it. You wanted to ask her about it, but doubted you could get through even an inkling of the conversation with your emotions in check. You weren’t about to expose yourself by asking questions to which you already knew the outcome. Still, it didn’t mean she deserved your judgement.

“I’m sorry,” you maintained eye contact as you spoke, hoping she knew that you meant the words, “you’re right.”

She ignored the apology with a wave of her hand, and you sighed, glad she didn’t seem to think anything was amiss.

“I see why he likes you. That fight in you…it’ll remind him of his,” she continued, almost to herself, “he’s been going through the motions for far too long now.”

You paused, wondering why she was so open, sharing about her king like that until you remembered, that as his future queen, this wouldn’t be inappropriate, especially that she was complimenting you. Still, it was hard to ignore the fact that she thought Loki was only going through the motions. They Fey you’d met looked nothing like that.

“I’m flattered you think so,” you said with a smile, hoping you could rely on pleasantries to get by, “you’ve certainly known him longer than I have.”

“We’ve been,” she paused with a huff and a little shake of her head, “it feels like we’ve known each other for an eternity. I’m glad he’s finally found someone who makes him happy.”

“Well, he makes me happy,” you almost gagged on the words, but the way her smile grew made you think that you’d said the right thing.

Valkyrie lifted her hand and a book high on the shelf flew off and into her hand. You pretended to inspect your nails, trying not to show how much her little display of magic amazed you. It seemed so simple and you couldn’t help but wonder if maybe it was something you’d be able to do if someone took the time to show you.

“I was thinking we’d start with something like this for formalwear,” she pointed to a gown that looked equally gorgeous and terrifying, “and then we move on depending on what you like or don’t like. Yeah?”

You shot her what you hoped was an enthusiastic smile, the moment bittersweet. Nat would have loved sitting here with you, thoughtfully pouring over all the designs and teasing you into trying something outside of your comfort zone. But she wasn’t here. Your hand fluttered to place on your chest where the pendant lay under your shirt. She was being held hostage and you were here. It didn’t matter than you were now in similar situations, yours was so much easier and you couldn’t help but feel guilty about being here. This whole thing seemed frivolous and pointless. The Hand was the only thing keeping you from walking out.

Valkyrie cocked her head to get a better look at you, “you sure?”

“Absolutely,” you picked up the design she’d just shown you, thankful your hands weren’t trembling, “ready as if my life depended on it.”

Loki had reappeared as you were nearing the end of Valkyrie’s many suggestions and had taken a seat in the far corning, looking on in calculated silence. It was hard to focus with him back in the room and you weren’t sure if you should change the way you were behaving around Valkyrie. She’d been so carefree and thoughtful about the dishes she’d had to offer that you’d almost forgotten what you were doing here. She wasn’t the council so you knew you didn’t have to impress her but a part of you still felt like you should remind her that the two of you were in love. Or at least maybe act a little differently?

After glancing over at Loki for what felt like the millionth time, he raised a brow. You glared at him. For someone who was so worried about the two of you being seen together this morning, he wasn’t doing a spectacular job at faking it right now. He shrugged lazily as if to say _what do you want me to do_ and stayed silent.

“I’m glad you told him to go because you clearly can’t take your eyes off of him,” Valkyrie remarked, her eyes fixed on the design she was altering based off of your comments.

You quickly turned back around, thankful that she had read your confusion as romance and impressed that she was so aware of her surroundings. Maybe if people expected to see love, they wouldn’t look so hard to think it wasn’t there. You mentally rolled your eyes. Kidding yourself was a waste of time.

You weren’t sure what to say to her comment, so you stayed silent, pasting on an awkward little smile and hoping it was the right thing to do. She lifted up the modified design and you could only nod, speechless, your smile becoming genuine this time.

“So that covers your daily garments. I do have dresses for…” the words fell from her mouth and she pursed her lips, eyes flickering to the ground before she came back up with a smile. You looked between her and Loki to try and see what you missed, but Loki’s face looked nothing other than bored. She continued quickly before you could get a better read on the situation, “dresses for every day use if you want. Clothes are like armour. Whatever you need, I can get it done.”

There was a seriousness to her voice that made you think that she didn’t just mean that figuratively, but the ominous tone stopped you from asking outright what she meant by it. There was something they weren’t telling you, but you doubted either of them would tell you what it was if you asked.

You jumped at the movement by your side, not having heard Loki get up.

Loki took her hand in his, “thank you, Valkyrie. Truly.”

Her brows furrowed but she smoothed it over quickly with a laugh, “you are paying me, remember?”

“True,” he murmured, shooting her a look you couldn’t decipher.

“Go,” she shooed him away with a laugh, “I’m tired of seeing your face.”

He put a hand on his heart in mock offence, the playful king back as quickly as he’d vanished, “you barely saw me today.”

“And bring you future queen around more often,” she continued as if he didn’t have a point, “I like her.”

He grinned mischievously, “as do I.”

And in that moment, he looked so convincing that you could see why she believed him. Loki didn’t appear to be a stranger to lying, even to someone who he’d apparently known forever. Although it meant that your chances of convincing the council were better off because of it, you didn’t like what that meant for your end of the deal.

“You know, Valkyrie,” he began.

“Don’t bother,” she cut him off with a stern half smile, “I’m good where I am.”

He dipped his head low, “I know…not unless the realms are sinking into the seven hells. I remember.”

She nodded curtly but shot you a wink as if you knew what in Ceridwen’s name they were talking about. You smiled back, your brain already going through the possible things a king could have repeatedly asked a seamstress for. Nothing that made any sense came up and Loki was already waiting in the doorframe, ready to go, so you added it to the ever-growing list of things you didn’t understand but somehow knew were important.

After your goodbyes, you left the house the way you came, heading back up the mountain to the palace.

“The meeting with the council is in a few hours,” he said, that casual joking tone he’d used with Valkyrie gone from his voice, “I suggest you wear something nice.”

“A gown,” you clarified.

He shrugged, “as long as it’s nice.”

“So you wouldn’t mind if I wore pants?” you demanded incredulously. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d seen Nat in anything other than the constricting gowns Odin trapped her in.

“I thought you were gorgeous wearing the tattered clothes you broke into the palace with,” he strolled on without looking at you, “if we didn’t need the council’s approval I wouldn’t have said a thing.”

Stunned, you grabbed his arm and spun him to a stop, wondering what in the seven hells was going on. His lips curled into a wicked grin and he stepped closer, dipping his head so your eyes were practically at level with his glowing ones, “don’t worry, sweatheart,” he crooned, “I’m simply getting a little practice in.”

You grunted and pushed past him, muttering asshole under your breath even though you knew his Fey hearing would catch it. You had a good idea where you were headed so you stomped forward, letting him stroll a few paces behind you. It didn’t matter that he could easily catch up to you if he wanted. The false sense of privacy made you feel better. It gave me the space to breathe.

You took in your surroundings enjoying the streets of Natalos. You stopped your stomping, taking your time getting back, not sure if you’d be stuck in the palace or allowed to roam wherever you wanted. You were hoping the latter, not only because you hated the confines of the palace but because there was a chance the Hand was in the city and you didn’t need the extra obstacle of trying to sneak out.

You weren’t sure if you would be stuck in the palace or if you’d be allowed to wander wherever you wanted. You hoped it was the latter not only because you hated being stuck in the palace but because there was a chance the Hand was in the city and you didn’t need the extra obstacle of trying to sneak out of the palace.

The sun had gotten much stronger, hanging overhead now. The kiss of the heat on your skin felt like it was finally melting away the cold of Niflheim. You sighed, closing your eyes for a fraction of a second as you walked, basking in the feel. You and Nat would feel the sun again. You would escape. You had to.

“Watch out for the fruit,” Loki interrupted your thoughts, much closer than he was before.

“What out for the what?” you echoed, stumbling to the side in surprise and trying to figure out what he was talking about.

His eyes widened and he reached out for you. You backed out of his grasp instinctively,grabbing onto the nearest tree to keep from tripping over. Then something cracked down on your head and it started pouring rain. Your whole body straightened in shock as the water poured down your face and neck, and down your spine. And then the stench hit you. You gagged. Wiping the liquid from your eyes, you noticed it had a slightly pink hue and was more like goo. Loki was completely dry. It couldn’t be rain. So what was it? He motioned for you to come closer, his lips tight as he tried to suppress a smile.

“What in the seven hells was that?” you practically shouted.

He pointed above, still not saying a word as he tried to keep himself together. The tree was massive and dark blue, sprawling across half the street with its thick branches and fan-like leaves. Hundreds of pink fruit about the size of your head hung precariously, swaying gently in the breeze.

“That’s not an explanation,” you growled, wiping more of the foul goo off you.

He swallowed and pointed to a sign that read, _Beware, falling Junabees._ This time, you actually looked around. If you hadn’t been so distracted, you probably would have noticed the pink-stained cobblestones littered with Junabee carcasses — that and the blatant warning. You took another step back toward the other side of the street just to be safe and glared at him.

“I wouldn’t walk too close to the edge next time,” he chuckled, though the wide grin on his face told you that he was enjoying this far more than you were.

“Why in Ceridwen’s name would you people keep this here?” you demanded, “it’s disgusting.”

He paused at your reference to the old gods and shrugged, motioning for you to come a little closer. You took a wary step forward, only following his request because you weren’t sure the Junabees were done with their attack. Tentatively, he raised a hand. You flinched back and he paused waiting for your nod. He brushed some of the goo off my cheek with his thumb, the motion slow and gentle. You stood still as a statue, not sure how to react. His eyes were bright and focused, the corner of his mouth quirked upward in the ghost of a smile. All you could do was was at him, barely breathing.

“They’re surprisingly difficult to grow and the berries can be quite delicious when prepared properly,” he murmured, taking more of the goo out of your hair, “so we let them grow wherever they chose to pop up. No one’s allowed to cut them down.”

The thought of eating one made you gag, “and how do you prepare them?”

His lips pulled into a sly grin, “wine.”

You scoffed and pushed past him, trying to clean out the goo out of your ear on the way. You were tempted to grab a Junabee and throw it at him, but you were too worried that it would burst in your hand if you tried. That wasn’t a risk you were willing to take, even to put him in the same situation as you.

He caught up quickly and kept stealing glances at you that were impossible to ignore.

“What?” you snapped.

“When we walk into the council room, you might want to wipe the murderous look from your face,” he mentioned with a grin, enjoying this far more than he should.

You looked around, trying to find something to take your mind off the fact that you wanted to punch him, “give me what I want, and you won’t have to worry about me meeting your council,” you said through clenched teeth.

A slight chuckle was all you got in response and he led you down a street you didn’t recognize. You couldn’t tell if he was showing you more of the city or making sure that you couldn’t find your way around it. You sighed. This was going to be impossible.

You were dragging your feet when you walked into the palace later that evening, your thighs burning from climbing the steep streets. You couldn’t help but think that all of this would have been easier if you weren’t human. There was nothing you could do about it now, but it didn’t change the fact that you hated it. Though now that you were stuck, all you wanted was a nice dinner and a warm bath, both of which were things you could actually get here and not in Niflheim — that was if you could get through this stupid council meeting or party or whatever it was.

“Valkyrie has already sent over a few options for you,” he said when you came to a stop in front of your door, “I would recommend you wash up before you meet the council. I can’t have them thinking you live in the pig sty.”

Although your heart soared at the idea of warm water, you were far too grumpy to be thankful, “and so what if I showed up like this?”

You tried your hardest not to wince as the pathetic retort came out. You were fed up and sore and not your best on an empty stomach. It probably would have been better to ignore him, but the words were out now.

He smirked, “take a bath or don’t. If you repel the council with your stench, I can’t say that I’ll be disappointed.”

“You know,” you huffed, “the only reason I smell this bad is because you didn’t warn me about the stupid Junabees in the first place.”

“I told you to be careful,” he countered, leaning lazily on the doorframe.

You nodded like he actually had a good point before snorting, “sure. I doubt you could have been any more vague about it if you tried.

He grinned and pulled a little more goo out of your hair.

“Ugh,” you stormed past his still grinning face and into you room.

“I’ll be back in an hour,” he called before you slammed the door in his face.

“We’ll have to make this quick,” Loki said, walking into the kitchen, “I left YN alone to wash up and get changed before the council meeting and told her I’d be back in an hour.”

“So we’ve got forty-five then,” Bucky said with a smirk, propping his feet up on the table.

Loki shook his head, “let’s make it thirty.”

That only made his grin spread even wider, “I see you’ve got your hands full with our future queen.”

“That may be so, but at least she’s not boring,” at Bucky’s raised brow he said, “she discovered the Junabees today.”

“So a solid thirty minutes then,” he chuckled, both of them fully aware of how hard it was to to wash that goo out of hair.

“Let’s get back to business,” Nebula snapped from the head of the table, cutting them off before they could say anything else.

Loki nodded, knowing he’d been putting it off. With his assassin back so soon, it could only mean that there was nothing good to report. He didn’t want to ruin his surprisingly good mood with the same answers Bucky had been coming to him with for the past two moons, but he had to get it done and over with.

“Right. Bucky. You found…” Loki drifted off, unable to ask the question he already knew the answer to.

Bucky shook his head, “nothing. If Hella’s working with someone else, then she’s hiding it extremely well.”

“There someone else,” Nebula affirmed, shooting Bucky a fierce look, “I’m sure of it.”

Bucky turned and gave her his full attention. They said nothing, but Loki knew that the Angel and Dark Elf could practically read each other’s minds. They had only ever told him bits and pieces of what had happened all those years ago before they had found him, but he knew they wouldn’t be sitting in his kitchen if they hadn’t found each other first.

Bucky nodded, “okay. I’ll find whoever it is.”

“And what about that future queen of yours?” Nebula snapped, whirling around to him. From her place at the counter, Wanda looked over her shoulder, but didn’t say anything. Nebula drove on, all business, “who’s she working for? You said she wants the Hand but I don’t believe for a second that a human who knows nothing about magic wants the Hand for herself.”

Loki shrugged, “herself, someone else, it doesn’t matter. Either way, she’s not getting it. The Hand stays locked up, right now more than ever. If anyone else gets their hands on it…”

They shuddered, still haunted from the last time the book had fallen into the wrong hands.

“What did Gamora have to say about it?” Bucky asked, offering Nebula half of his bread roll. She looked at it with hatred, but Bucky shoved it her way until she took it.

“She hasn’t spoken to me since YN’s arrival,” Sterling looked over at Wanda, “any luck on that end?”

“I think so,” Wanda slid the potatoes she’d been chopping into the large pot and came their way, “Gamora says that she can’t remember who cursed her but I believe that’s the key to breaking it.”

Loki stared at Wanda, intrigued and a little impressed Wanda could get Gamora to divulge anything personal about herself, “go on.”

“Right, so we haven’t gotten anywhere because we haven’t been able to identify the magic that was used to curse her, correct?”

“It’s like nothing I’ve ever seen” Bucky said, leaning back in his chair to look over at Nebula who shook her head.

Despite all of his training, Loki also had to agree, “it’s beyond anything I’ve ever seen. And the Witches are still being silent, but I doubt that even if they agreed to help, they’d know what it was any more than we did.”

“Right,” Wanda went back to the pot and stirred a few times, thinking, “which is why I doubt any of us can figure out what it is. I think Gamora is the only person who could identify the magic, so what if we knew who cursed her?”

Bucky grinned, “then she would know what kind of magic was used to bind the curse.”

“We don’t actually have that information,” Nebula pointed out gruffly.

“Then we’d need a remembering spell,” Loki suggested, knowing that just because they now had a new theory didn’t mean they were any closer to breaking Gamora’s curse.

Wanda winced and tilted her head from side to side. He sighed. There was no doubt in his mind that he wasn’t going to like what she was about to say next.

“Or we’d need someone to get in her head.”

“No,” Loki answered immediately, “no. She’ll never let me in and trying might kill me. Her power might only be a tenth of what it used to be but that’s still more than I’m willing to bargain with. If I managed to unlock the memory and I’m still in there…”

“Then we’ve fried the king,” Bucky added helpfully.

Loki shot him a looked that earned him a cheeky grin in return.

“Wanda’s option might be the only one,” Nebula countered, glaring at Bucky, “memory spells are hard to come by and even harder to execute effectively — even for Loki.”

“It’ll be her decision,” Wanda affirmed though her voice was no louder than a whisper. They all snapped to attention knowing she was right, “if she thinks it’s safe, then it’s her decision whether to go through with it or not.”

Loki nodded solemnly, “agreed.”

Wanda walked back over to her pot, stirring and humming softly as if they hadn’t been discussing Gamora’s fate, “I’ll keep looking for a spell, but you should talk to Gamora.”

“You don’t want to do it?” Loki asked with a smirk.

She offered him a small smile, “I know you’re going to see her later. The honour is yours.”

“How kind,” he said with a laugh before heading back out to get ready for his meeting with YN and the council.


	5. If You'd Ever Had a Real Boyfriend Maybe You'd Know What to do With a Fake One

You had wanted to spend the whole hour in the bath, scrubbing the stupid Junabee from your hair, but Loki had given you an hour alone and you weren’t about to waste it soaking in a tub; no matter how luxurious or tempting it was. You’d chosen a dark silky blouse and fancy but comfortable pants, quickly noticing that Valkyrie had made a slitted compartment in the leg for your dagger. You hadn’t spoken about it with her and you didn’t know if that was her way of ominously warning you to stay safe or simply that she’d gotten a better read on you during your afternoon than you’d thought. Either way, you were glad to have it there.

Even though they clashed with the outfit, you’d kept your boots on underneath, refusing to part with them. You weren’t in the mood to get blisters from shoes you’d never worn before and needed to to know you could run and move if need be. Your steps were silent on the floor — another reason you’d kept on the boots — hopefully imperceptible even to Fey hearing. Leaning your ear against the door, you waited, listening for movement in the hallway. Nothing. Your hand was tentative on the handle. You gently pulled open the door and stepped out, eyes scanning the hallway. You bit back a groan.

Loki was leaning against the opposite wall, freshly changed into a dark suit, the cut and style similar to the likes of human fashion and his dark hair combed back. You were momentarily surprised he owned something like that, but with the mountain of clothing you received from Valkerie only hours after meeting her, you should have guessed she would have made something for him as well. It was a clever move on his part, and you wondered if it was him or his seamstress who had decided on the suit. Regardless of who’s idea it was, the clothes fit him so perfectly, even you couldn’t deny that he was incredibly handsome. The thought made you scowl. He raised a brow.

“I thought you were going to be back in an hour,” you blurted then quickly realized how suspicious you sounded.

He shrugged, “I lied.”

The silence stretched on after his words and you turned them over in your mind. He knew you would try and leave. It was the only reason he would have lied about something so unimportant. And you stupidly believed him. You ran your tongue over your teeth, trying to hide your frustration — at him, yes, but also at yourself. You should have known that after sneaking off this morning he’d be watching you even more closely. If you’d have stayed put, maybe you could have gained his trust enough to search the palace on your own. Now, you’d only made everything harder for yourself. There was no way he trusted you before, but he sure in the Seven Hells didn’t trust you now. You should have known better than this. You had to _be_ better than this. You felt tears burn behind your eyes and you struggled to keep ahold of yourself.

He cocked his head, looking at you more closely now, as if he could see beneath your skin if he tried hard enough. You avoided his gaze, watching the trees swaying outside through a nearby window until you were sure your voice wouldn’t crack when you spoke.

You tried to turn the tables on him Instead of trying to defend your own actions, and muttered, “that wasn’t very nice of you.”

He seemed to find that funny, his intense stare breaking as he pushed off the wall and approached with slow, lazy steps, “and what were _you_ about to do, sweetheart?”

You took in a deep breath; pasted on a coy smile. You had to calm down and get your act together if you wanted to get through this. And you were going to get through this. For yourself. For Nat. You had no other choice.

You closed the door behind you.

“Find you, of course,” you replied sweetly.

His head dipped in a slow nod, lips pursed as if he was trying to fight a smile. You didn’t for a second think that he believed me.

“Well, sweetheart, you found me,” he crooned.

You couldn’t fake any kind of enthusiasm, the words dry when you said, “lucky me.”

“Lucky _me_ ,” he countered, lips curling into a wicked grin. His eyes were bright and taunting as if he was winning a game you weren’t aware you were playing, “and now that you’ve found me, what are you going to do about it?”

His voice had dropped so that his question sounded like a dare, words laced with danger and promises of something more. Your breath caught in your throat. You hadn’t realized how close you’d gotten now that he was leaning against your doorframe. You looked up haughtily, holding his gaze as you searched for something to say in return, but you had nothing. He tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear and raised a brow, that insufferable smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth.

Annoyed and all too aware of how close he was standing, you snorted and pushed past him. It wasn’t the most elegant or articulate, but it was the best you could come up with.

“Anything I should know about this party thingy?” you asked, hoping you could get back onto solid footing with some distance and a neutral question.

He was silent as he strolled beside you and you had to look up at him to make sure he’d heard. The only reason you didn’t repeat the question was the pinched look on his face and the way he began by saying, “I won’t lie to you,”

You stopped short, your hands on your hips. He paused and turned. When you didn’t back down, he nodded as if he’d just remembered lying to you less than an hour ago.

“Not about this,” he explained, though you weren’t comforted in the slightest by his answer. He was obviously comfortable lying to you and seemed to have it in mind that he would need to. Obviously, as king, he wasn’t going to tell you most things, but you wondered what that meant for your fate and Nat’s.

You kept walking, not wanting to get distracted and make a big deal about something you couldn’t change. For now. You motioned for him to go on.

“The council isn’t going to like you,” he replied bluntly, “they’re all part of the generation that burned down the temples of the old gods and almost half supported the discoveries that led to the war on purity.”

You closed your eyes for a few steps and tried to ignore the sinking feeling in your chest. Several decades before Hayle inherited the throne, Dark Elf scholars from Alfhiem discovered that magic flowed through the Nine Realms like currents in a massive loop of energy. They had found that the each specific mutation that differentiated the races attracted certain currents of energy and allowed those mutation to interact with and manipulate the magic of the currents. Humans couldn’t interact with any.

Then, when Odin later took the throne, a human scholar named Brock Rumlow was found guilty of capturing and testing on as many of the other races as he could get his hands on to try and imitate the mutations to give himself more power. Odin had taken the opportunity to turn as many of the other realms as he could against humans, burning the temples the humans had built when they had believed the magic had come from the gods. They had set out to eradicate the ‘lesser race’ — humans who had no power and would inevitably try to steal everyone else’s. Anyone who had sided with Odin despised humans and were a threat to them, even hundreds of years after they had lost the war on purity.

You were in more danger here than you’d realized.

“Great,” you muttered. Then a terrifying thought occurred to you that he might actually agree with them, “if they’re part of your council, why haven’t you gotten rid of them?”

He looked down at me in surprise, “kill them?”

“Kick them off the council,” you snapped, “you were king for at least a little while. You could have changed that.”

You stopped yourself from saying that he _should_ have changed it. The actions of one human should not have been enough to condemn the entire race for future generations and every other race that had sided with them. But you should have known when Asgard had abandoned everyone good in the war that they didn’t care for anyone other than themselves.

Loki remained silent as a beautiful Fey woman crossed you in the hallway and nodded politely as she walked past. Her eyes lingered on you and the space between you and Loki so you stepped a little closer to him as you walked, your shoulders practically touching. When you were certain she couldn’t see you anymore, you stepped away from him, afraid he could feel your anger radiating off you in waves.

“Their positions are for life,” he said with a shrug, “and unfortunately, that’s a long time.”

“Unfortunate,” you scoffed, then muttered, “maybe you should have considered the first option gave you.”

His steps faltered slightly, “I beg your pardon?”

You knew he’d heard with his Fey hearing.

“Nothing,” you chirped.

He looked at you warily before continuing, scanning your body from head to toe as if he was looking for the dagger you’d pulled on him the day before.

“Thankfully, the head of the court is impartial,” he finally said when he seemed satisfied you weren’t going to try anything, “and the ultimate decision is his. My advice to you is to ignore the rest of them and focus on making this convincing.”

You nodded. His plan made sense, but there was so much that wasn’t on your side simply because you were human. If this was a fight, you were starting it blindfolded and with a hand tied behind your back. You clenched your teeth, frustrated. He’d conveniently forgotten to mention how desolate our situation was before you’d agreed to it. Though you hadn’t really agreed to it. It would be a long time before you forgot the way he’d casually threatened your life and the pain he’d caused last night. 

“If you knew all this, then why in the Seven Hells did you drag me into this?” you snarled, unable to keep the emotion from your voice, “wouldn’t it have been easier to use someone who was Fey? I’m sure Valkyrie would have been available.”

You weren’t sure why you’d called out the seamstress, but now that you had, you wouldn’t mind him explaining some of the million secrets you knew they were both keeping from you.

He didn’t seemed fazed by your outburst, his face almost more impassive than it was before, “easier maybe, but it would have been too obvious. The fact that you’re so unexpected makes it the most believable.”

Your anger was dropped to a simmer for a moment when you wondered what he meant by ‘too obvious’. What kind of past was between them? Maybe something was still there and this whole situation was coming between them. Maybe your deal was ruining a perfectly decent relationship. You decided you didn’t care. You weren’t here to become invested in their lives. You had other — more important — things to worry about.

“This hallway leads to the council’s banquet hall,” he continued once he realized that you weren’t going to say anything else on the subject, “if ever I’m not here to escort you, this is the easiest way to get from our rooms to the hall.”

“There are other ways?” you asked, thinking that the better you knew the layout of the palace, the better your chances were of finding the Hand.

He glanced at you side-long, wary of your question. With reason, but you weren’t about to confirm that.

“I mean, what if I’m not coming from my room,” you supplied, hurrying along.

“You can always ask for help,” he said. His face took on a serious quality that you hadn’t seen on him before, “the walls have ears here. Unless you’re in your room, know that I’ll be able to hear you if you’d like help.”

You didn’t know what to think about that. You’d been talking pretty freely about your deal, even though it had been in hushed tones most of the time. But that meant that whatever you said could be overheard by anyone. You were going to have to be even more careful than you’d first thought.

He nodded as if he could read your mind and honestly, with the minute demonstrations of magic you’d seen so far, you weren’t sure he couldn’t. You didn’t know anything about Fey magic and because of it, you were even more at a disadvantage. If you were going to have to spend a few moons here then you were going to have to learn more about it. Maybe even put your pride aside and ask him about it.

“Do you think you can make it convincing in there, sweetheart?” he asked, pausing a few steps away from a set of double doors. You’d been so lost in thought that you hadn’t realized you were already at the banquet hall.

“YN,” you grumbled, “and I think I can manage.”

“Good. Then I think we should hold hands,” he said.

You rolled your eyes, though you were glad he’d had the decency to accept your terms and ask you first.

“How romantic. And original,” you laughed, though there was no humour in the sound, “did you come up with that all on your own, prince?”

“You did want a heads up,” he ran a hand through his hair, “and funny thing is sweetheart, love isn’t original. Or so I’ve heard.”

“Never been in love?” you couldn’t help but ask.

“No,” he kept his eyes on the door ahead, not giving anything away, his voice steady when he asked, “have you?”

A crazy kind of laughter bubbled in your chest at the irony and impossibility of your situation. Afraid it would turn into full blown panic, you managed to push it far enough down to say, “no. Looks like we’re perfect for this.” 

He rocked back on his heels, the corner of his mouth barely twitching upward, “I knew there was a reason I chose you.”

“I broke into your palace, I don’t think that counts,” you scoffed.

He offered his hand, “I let you.”

“Keep telling yourself that, prince,” you said, your frustration back as if it had never left. You tried to ignore that familiar itch blooming at your tailbone, “you people are so overconfident and arrogant that anyone with half a brain could break into this place.”

“And yet, here you are,” he pointed out, that infuriating smirk growing.

You crossed your arms, tucking your hands tightly against your body to hide your growing temper, “not because of your charm.”

He leaned in close, lips almost touching your ear when he whispered, “you’re no peach either, my queen.”

“At least I’m not a spoiled brat who coerces helpless humans into miserable bargains,” you whispered back, head snapping to face him and your composure slipping away faster than usual. We were so close now your noses were practically touching and you made sure to take a step away from him.

He shook his head and you felt a shimmer of magic surround you like a bubble. You looked around as if you could physically see it, but obviously nothing was there.When you looked back at him, Loki’s eyes were ablaze.

“Like you’re helpless, YN. You obviously don’t like me and that’s fine, but don’t think for a second that I’m clueless. You can fool them, sweetheart, but not me.”

You let out another humourless laugh, easing the pressure in your chest slightly, “and there’s that overconfidence and arrogance I was just talking about.”

“Are there any other insights about me you would like to share?” he asked, that bored expression quickly replacing any sort of emotion you might have seen on his face.

“Not right now,” you snapped.

He huffed a sigh, “then we should go in.”

You took his hand. It was a rough, warrior’s, easily engulfing yours.

He smirked.

“Shut up,” you growled, tempted to rip your hand away, “this is a necessity.”

“I didn’t say anything,” he pointed out, though there was no doubt in your mind that he knew exactly what he’d done to get under your skin so easily. Just the thought infuriated you more.

“This is never going to work,” you muttered.

He paused, voice taunting when he said, “not with that attitude it won’t.”

It took all of your restraint not to punch him in the arm with your free hand. He was so cavalier about all of this that you had trouble believing he took any of it seriously. How were you supposed to get the book when this was over when his vanity seemed to take precedence over everything else? He raised your hands and placed a slow kiss on yours, his intense gaze never leaving you. You glared at him and could feel his lips twist into a smile on your skin. Before you could snap at him for being an arrogant prick, he pushed open the doors and was on the move again, tugging you along with him. You did your best to keep up with his long strides through the smaller hallway that led to fancy looking doors at the end. You didn’t know if you were late or it if it was you dreading the party, but it felt like he’d picked up the pace.

You kept repeating to yourself that the walls had ears and that you had a job to do. You had Nat’s face etched into your mind — the sheer panic, wide eyes and gaunt face of the day the two of you had gotten captured. You had to get her out. You had to. Which meant that you couldn’t go around hating the man you were supposed to love. At least, not blatantly you couldn’t.

“I couldn’t be happier than to be here with you in this moment, Loki,” you said as you approached the doors that looked even more impressive up close, “there’s no one else I’d ever want at my side.”

He stopped with his hand on the door and looked over at you with a curious, but slightly amused expression on his face. He leaned over so that his shoulder barely brushed up against yours and said, “commendable attempt, sweetheart, but you might want to remind your face of your intentions if you want anyone to believe it.”

Then he pulled you into the room with him before you could say anything else. You did your best to wipe the scowl from your face. It wasn’t easy to do when this was the last place you wanted to be, but every pair of eyes were on you so you had no choice. And there were a lot of them.

The banquet hall was filled with Fey in elegant evening wear, male and female alike, all dissecting you as if you’d intruded on their private event. The room was smaller than you thought it would be, though it still had high arched ceilings, wide stained glass windows and a long table set up in the back with an impressive spread of food. A quick scan of the crowd gave you the impression that there were almost fifty Fey here but not one friendly face among them. Your legs suddenly felt like jelly and you were surprised you were somehow still standing.

Loki looked down at you and raised a brow. It was a silent challenge as if he thought you were intimidated by his court — that you couldn’t keep up. The arrogant look reignited the furry that had been doused by the judging stares and brought you back to your senses fast enough that you didn’t stumble after Loki when he walked you toward the centre of the party. Because of course you were going to the centre of it. Where else would you go?

“Nice to see everyone,” he began, shooting them all courtly smiles, though he lingered slightly longer on the five men who stood a few steps apart from the others. Their tunics looked similar to most of the other men, but you could tell their designs were more carefully tailored for their bodies and the fabrics better suited for the cut of the shirt and pants they wore. These men exuded power and confidence, and you could only assume that they were the council members that you were supposed to impress.

But the council of stuffy old men that you’d been expecting was nowhere to be seen. Only two of them appeared to be over the age of fifty, all the other in their early thirties at most — though you didn’t doubt that most of them were at least a few generations of humans old. All were Fey, and objectively speaking, all of them were quite handsome. Their looks were sharp and angular, traditional of the Fey and alluring in the way that they were surrounded by an air of magic. But the moment you looked into their eyes you knew you didn’t want to be in the room with them any longer than you had to. These men might not have been cruel at the beginning of their lives, but any kindness that might have once lived within them was long gone. And judging by the way their lips puckered in disgust, Loki had undersold their hatred for humans. You didn’t know if Asgard had ever had a human queen before the war, but you’d been warned they weren’t keen on it now. You just hadn’t been ready for them to look at you with more disgust on their faces than most of the people in Odin’s realm did — that was, those who bothered to look at you at all.

“We didn’t realize you were back from your travels, _prince_ Loki,” the Fey man in the middle sneered.

“I arrived yesterday, Tywin” Loki replied curtly, his face impassive as he ignored the jab, “my court was aware.”

You tried not to stare back and forth between the councilmen and Loki. You had assumed that the council and his court were interchangeable, but obviously if they had been, these men would have been aware of his return — his return from where though? And if he had arrived yesterday, then you’d gotten to Asgard not long after he had. Maybe if you’d gotten here sooner you wouldn’t be stuck in this mess…Regardless, you couldn’t help but wonder if your arrivals were a coincidence or if there was something more going on to this whole situation than just a fight for his crown? There had to be a million things he wasn’t telling you, but would any of those things affect your end of the bargain? There were too may questions you didn’t know the answers to and you had to keep your face neutral before your rising worry ruined your scheme and your chances of getting the Hand before it even started.

“And who is this _human_ you’ve brought with you?” Tywin asked, never once giving you any of his attention. He spoke the word as if you were a shameful object Loki had brought with him to use to taunt the council rather than a living, breathing, conscious being.

Loki lolled his head to the side, shooting you a lazy look you took as a signal to answer the Fey’s questions.

You lifted your chin, staring them all down one by one, and spoke slowly, pronouncing each syllable clearly just to make sure they got it, “YN YLN.”

The man’s lip curled, but he didn’t get a chance to speak.

“She will be my queen,” Loki declared.

There was no hesitation or doubt in his voice. It didn’t matter that he needed their approval to take the throne or that they had clearly pointed out that the title no longer belonged to him, he was above these people. They answered to him. Even masked by the bored look on his face, the authority in his voice was so strong, you found yourself believing it. And judging by the frustration on their faces, they did too — even if it was begrudgingly.

“We’ll discuss the technical aspects later,” he decided, his tone suddenly flippant as if he hadn’t just commanded the whole room into silence, “tonight is not meant for business.

He cut through the middle of the crowd and led you to the banquet table at the back of the room, dismissing the rest of the council. The silence lingered and followed you to the table, but slowly, the chatter began again, taking on a life of its own. You let out a since once the music had started again and their gazes were no longer boring into your back. Loki let go of your hand and offered you drink.

You must have looked at the pale red liquid suspiciously because he said, “it’s safe for humans.”

You hated that he seemed to be able to read your expressions so easily.

You grabbed the flute form his hands, the liquid sloshing in the glass before you downed it in a few quick gulps. The taste was sharp and not overly sweet, and went down smoothly. Which meant you had to be careful. You were human. Although your abilities would inherently handle the liquor better than most humans, that was what you were at the moment. Human. One too many drinks and you might do something incredibly stupid.

“Don’t look too pleased to be here,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair. You thought it looked like he wanted to tear his hair out, but the look flashed by so quickly you were pretty sure you’d imagined it. He shoved his hands into his pockets and rocked back on his heels. The arrogance on his made you sure that you had.

He handed you another drink, “try not to spill this one.”

“I hate this place,” you whispered.

“Mingle,” he whispered back, “then you can leave.”

You blew him a kiss and stomped off. It was a pitiful attempt at love and you knew it. You needed to do a better job at pretending to be his queen, knowing that if you didn’t, you would never forgive yourself. But of course, the things you knew and the things you did rarely matched up. It was the reason you were a human stuck in this stupid mess in the first place.

Loki stared at you from across the room but didn’t approach. You tried to keep from rubbing your temples. You’d been in Asgard less than a day and you were already exhausted. You chalked it up to stress, not wanting to admit to yourself what the real was and rolled your shoulders back. You smiled at a passing Fey woman. She smiled back. There. That wasn’t so bad. You had a job to do. Loki wanted convincing? You were going to make it so damned convincing he was going to let you spend the whole day sleeping in tomorrow. You tried not to grind your teeth at the thought that you still needed someone to ‘let you’ do whatever you wanted. You down your drink, set it on the table and grabbed two more from a passing waiter. Once you got this done, you wouldn’t need anyone to let you do anything. You were going to be free again. Nat was going to be free. You could this. You spotted Loki across the room and off you went. You could do this.

Only you didn’t get far. A member of the council stopped you with a hand clamped around your arm. You flinched at the vice-grip. If the Fey man noticed your discomfort, it didn’t bother him enough to let go.

“You’re quite pretty for a human,” he leered, drawing you closer.

He was the youngest of the council members by far, looking about Loki’s age. His sand coloured hair was cut short and styled in a way that showcased his pointed ears and accentuated his ocean blue eyes. He was tall and square, holding himself like a warrior. You didn’t doubt he was one. Nothing about him was kind. Everything was rough looking. The humans had a myth that the other races were all carved from stone by the gods and brought to life through their immortal breath, but this Fey looked like they’d forgotten to polish him off, the lines around his eyes harsh and unfeeling.

It took all of your restraint not to shove him off, only the thought of Nat fending off jerks like this in Flaik keeping your anger in check. You were trained for this. That training might have been buried deep beneath hundreds of years of memories but it was there and it was time you dug it back up and used it.

You patted his arm, your cheeks forced into a smile, “interesting that a man such as yourself would say that.”

HIs lip curled in disgust as if he was insulted you hadn’t swooned over his pathetic excuse of an insult, “why’s that?”

“Because I thought the Fey were supposed to have perfect eyesight. Quite pretty doesn’t cut it for your future queen” you ripped your arm out of his grasp and strode off to where you’d last seen Loki, but he wasn’t there.

Great. Of course he’d left you to fend off these vultures yourself. One day you were going to punch him and you weren’t going to be sorry about it.

“Nicely done,” Loki whispered, standing so close you were practically touching.

You almost jumped out of your skin. You had no clue where he’d come from.

“Don’t patronize me,” you snapped, shoving one of the two glasses at him,“I don’t need it.”

He peered down at you, but didn’t try and defend himself, “understandable, but you may want my advice. If you can avoid Helio, do. He might be the youngest on the council but that doesn’t mean he’s any better than the rest of them.”

You snorted, “nice court you’ve got here, prince.”

“It’s a lifetime position, remember?” he said, nodding politely to the guests as you walked along the fringes of the party.

You knew he’d told you that before, but this time you deflated, feeling like you’d agreed to a situation that kept getting far more hopeless that you’d realized. He stopped and gave you a little shrug like he knew exactly how you were feeling. For once, there was nothing condescending in his expression and he genuinely seemed to understand. Maybe he did. He needed this to work too. But then again, maybe he didn’t. He was only loosing a title and not the person he loved most in this world.

He extended his hand. You tried to control the jittery feeling that was spreading through your limbs and through your body, making your breaths more and more shallow. Instead, you tried to focus on the fact that what you were doing wasn’t impossible. Improbable, yes, but not impossible. It would only become impossible if you didn’t take his hand and work with him. You didn’t have to like him. Seven hells, you didn’t even have to trust him. All you had to do was stop letting every little thing discourage you and do this with both feet in. You’d find a way to get the hand. You and Nat had gotten through worse. This time would’t be different. It couldn’t be.

You took his arm instead and stood a little closer for effect. The gesture put a little smile on his face. It was the perfect look to convince the council he was besotted and you knew you should do the same. Remembering the lessons from your childhood, you smoothed out the tension you knew must be on your face and told yourself that you hadn’t messed anything up yet. You were human in a Fey’s realm. It was only natural to be a little tense. You could play the part. You could lie just as well as he could.

“What’s the goal tonight?” you asked, voice low so that you wouldn’t attract any unwanted attention from the fey stealing glances at you.

His face was pleasant when he said, “I just need you to be seen.”

“With you?” you tried to clarify, a little put off by the way his tone didn’t match the look on his face.

“No. Just seen,” he brushed back your hair, leaning in so close that you shivered when his lips brushed against your ear, “I don’t trust any of them,” he whispered, “and neither should you.”

You wanted him to say more, but you understood enough to know that making sure you were seen by all the council was a failsafe to make sure nothing happened to you. If they all knew who you were and what you looked like, none of them could claim ignorance if you were kicked out of the palace — or worse. You tried to swallow the lump in your throat. Yesterday he had made your deal seem like a piece of cake. Now you were sure he’d lied. Only the worry that your life might be on the line kept you from lashing out in anger.

“If I die, you don’t get to be king,” you reminded him through clenched teeth.

Loki backed off slowly, his movements measured and controlled, “if you died, I couldn’t imagine ever being sane enough to properly rule a kingdom.”

His words were a subtle reminder that despite your distance and the noise in the room, everyone here had Fey hearing and could listen in if they really wanted to — and they probably did. You mentally slapped yourself. You were going to have to start thinking before you spoke.

“Your words are too sweet,” you said, shooting him a pointed look, “but you’re far too strong to lose your sanity overa human, especially that our love will live on for _far long than I will.”_

He seemed to realize his mistake and pressed a kiss to your forehead. You narrowed your eyes at him and he shrugged with a little smirk.

“It is your everlasting love that will make me the best king I could possibly be,” he looked like he was enjoying himself far too much and you waited warily for his next words, “after all, sweetheart, I know you’d scale any building for me.”

You placed your hand on your heart for effect. It was better than punching his arm.

“And yet your love is so irresistible, it’s almost as if I didn’t have a choice in the matter,” you shot back.

He grinned.

“Aren’t you two sweet,” a male voice sneered.

You almost groaned. This had to be another councilman. Loki smirked and mouthed _tell it to your face_ before he turned so that you were facing a man who resembled a boulder both in shape and wit. You were glad it wasn’t Helio again, but this one didn’t seem much better. Still, you managed somewhat a decent smile.

He didn’t wait for either of you to speak before continuing.

“I’d heard a rumour a few moons ago that we were going to have two kings instead of a king and a queen rule Asgard this time. But I don’t know where such a rumour could have come from, especially that you two have known each other for…” he was waiting for an answer, looking between you with a smug grin. You doubted he could have made it more obvious that he was hoping to catch you in a lie because these people didn’t believe you were in love. Whether that was because you were human or because you weren’t the right sex, you were no longer sure. You snuggled even closer to Loki and looked up at him with an expression on your face that you hoped showed nothing other than love.

Loki licked his lips, teeth scraping against his lower lip as he tried to hold back laughter. Your gaze inadvertently dropped to his mouth for too long before you looked back up into his bright eyes. Judging by the strange expression on his face, you weren’t doing a very good job at conveying love, which only made it harder not to scowl.

“Every day I learn something new about her,” Loki crooned, “it feels like we keep meeting over and over…like we just met yesterday.”

There was a victorious little glint in his eyes that you hoped the councilman interpreted as love. All you saw was a challenge to keep up.

You widened your grin, partly afraid it might look a little crazy but going with it anyways, “and yet, at the same time it feels like we’ve known each other for an eternity. I can’t remember what it was like not knowing him.”

You both turned back to face the Fey man and he narrowed his eyes, trying to see beneath the act. You tried to snuggle in a little closer, but with Loki’s hands in his pockets, there wasn’t much more you could do to get closer. He seemed to realize that in the way he stiffened slightly, but neither of you moved, afraid too much fidgeting would make the councilman see something he wouldn’t have otherwise found.

You were afraid the Fey could hear your heart pounding and you waited for him to say something. Finally, it was Loki who spoke instead.

“YN, I would like you to meet councilman Lucius Bonnefort. Lucius, meet your future queen.” 

Lucius grit his teeth. He hadn’t been given a command, but the order from his king was clear. He was to treat you with the respect of any other Fey here. Loki raised a brow, waiting. It looked like Lucius might turn his teeth to dust he was gritting them so hard.

“Pleasure,” was all he muttered before sulking off.

You looked up at Loki and found a frigid expression on his face. His council may have been challenging him but at least they still respected him. The harsh lines on Loki’s face didn’t soften. Maybe it wasn’t respect. Maybe it was fear. You’d gotten a glimpse of his power last night that you didn’t want to relive. Maybe they knew better than to cross their king.

You strolled and mingled with some of the other party guests, but none of the other council members came to see you. It was clear they wanted nothing to do with the two of you, and although Lucius seemed to have bought your answer, you weren’t convinced any of them bought your act. It wasn’t like they wanted to, so why would they? The two of you standing close together wasn’t going to change any of that.

You stopped yourself from rubbing your eyes, trying not to let show how discouraged you were becoming. You’d never been in love. You’d never even had a serious relationship or anything that lasted longer than a couple nights. If this was going to work, you had to think. You couldn’t rely on your own experiences to get you through this. You needed something big. Something that would convince them, without a shadow of a doubt, that you were at least a real couple.

You glanced around the room, looking at all the people who refused to make eye contact with you. As much as you hated it, you needed them to look at you. And you needed to make sure that you did something big when they did. An idea began to take shape in your mind. You didn’t like it, but you were pretty sure it would work.

“Mind if I break one of our rules?” you whispered as softly as you could, catching Loki’s attention.

He leaned back, an amused look on his face. The dip of his head was barely visible but enough to give you the go ahead. You took the drink from his hand and grabbed a knife off the table behind him. Loki observed every movement curiously, no longer seeming quite so bored with the event. You gently tapped the knife against the glass, the hollow ringing echoing throughout the room. It wasn’t hard to get everyone’s attention when more than half of them had been stealing glances at you all evening. You placed the knife gently on the table and you free hand fluttered up instinctively to the pendent resting under your shirt. The weight of it was a strangely comforting reminder that what you were about to do was for the right reasons.

“Hello everyone,” you cleared your throat, hating the way your voice trembled, “I know a toast is a bit of a human tradition, but I was hoping, since I intend to be your queen in a few short moons, that I could say hello with a little tradition of my own. I just wanted to say what a pleasure it has been meeting all of you and I hope to get to know you better in the future. I love Loki more than any of you can imagine, and I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life here!”

The speech was premature and overconfident at best, but it wasn’t only a statement to prove that you be queen, it was also a message to Loki. You might have gotten caught off guard when you’d broken into the palace, but you were going to walk away with the Hand. You could play these games better than anyone here. You had no choice to, and you had the skills to prove it.

The tentative clapping wasn’t even done when you turned around, placed your drink on the table, grabbed Loki by the face and pulled him in for a kiss. He stiffened under your touch, lips frozen in place. You panicked. What did you just do? You were about to pull away and try to come up with a credible excuse for what had just happened when finally, his hands slipped around your waist and he pulled you closer, kissing you back. You melted into his touch. His lips were soft and gentle, and he let you lead the kiss until you pulled away slowly. You stared into his eyes, not quite sure that you’d actually done that. Loki didn’t say anything, his body oddly stiff. You couldn’t read his expression so you stepped back, his hands lingering a little longer before he let go.Unnerved by this strange version of Loki, you bopped him on the nose with the tip of your finger, surprising yourself with the gesture. His eyes narrowed but you only grinned, taking your little victories where you could get them.

“Enjoy the rest of your evening!” you announced, reaching around him for you glass and raising it.

You were met with a few wide eyes and bewildered looks, but thankfully, everyone raised their glasses and took a sip. You nodded and smiled, meeting a few eyes before turning back to face Loki. His courtly smile masked whatever he was feeling, and you had no idea whether he was furious or not. He extended an arm. You took it but you didn’t know what to think.

This time, as you walked through the party, you got a few smiles and a few _nice to meet yous._ You shot a winning smile to a fey man as you passed. Not sure what to do with it, he immediately looked away, flustered. The reaction eased some of the pressure on your chest, but you knew the party was far from over. And judging by the way Loki was deathly silent, you were also going to have to contend with him later. He pulled you into a dark alcove at the far end of the banquet hall, the sounds of the party falling away. Apparently he thought sooner was better than later.

“So that’s how we’re doing this?” he demanded.

You had to crane your neck to look up at him you were so close, your chests practically touching. His eyes were emeralds on fire, and with the ghost of that fake smile still on his lips, the effect was terrifying. Despite the number of the drinks you’d downed, you were aware enough to be wary of it.

“I warned you first,” you blurted out. Hating how defensive you sounded, you took a deep, steadying breath but the way it closed the distance between you did nothing to calm your nerves. If anything, it was almost as if your magics were creating an electric current between your bodies. You didn’t know if he could feel it so you ignored it, “I made the right call. Look at them.”

He learned over you to see around the corner, looking at the crowd who was still talking about your little toast. He smelled like mint and summer nights and you tried not to breathe in the pleasant scent.

He settled back into the alcove and raised a brow, “all for the greater good, right sweetheart?”

The words were spoken like a threat rather than an observation, dangerous and cunning. You swallowed, wondering what you’d just gotten yourself into. Actually, you knew what you’d gotten yourself into and you were doing a damned good job of it. If he thought he could intimidate you out of doing your job and securing the Hand then he was very well mistaken.

You jut your chin up, your faces inches away now, “exactly. Maybe you should keep up Prince Loki.”

He chuckled, his breath tickling your cheek. You mimicked his arrogant brow lift, waning for an answer. He said nothing, leaning in even closer. Your breath hitched and you wondered if he was going to kiss you just to spite you.

“If you’re going to make this a competition,” he whispered with a wolfish glint in his eyes, “then I’m willing to play, sweetheart.”

He pulled you out of the alcove before you had a chance to reply. You didn’t know if you’d just made things harder for yourself, but you’d definitely made them more interesting. Though you weren’t sure more interesting was what you needed.

The crowd parted for you as Loki cut across the room and you cursed your short legs for having so much trouble keeping up. He led you toward the only Fey here who actually looked like an old man. His sharp cheekbones and tight skin had gone soft and wrinkly, and the long hair cascading down past his shoulders was as white as his long beard, both of which resembled the frozen landscape of Niflheim. The fey looked thoughtfully between the two of you as you came to a stop in front of him, the corner of his eyes crinkling.

“You two are certainly something,” the fey said.

“That’s love,” you gushed, taking the lead on the situation.

Loki placed a quick kiss to your temple before making the introductions. The fey was Eamon Loveless, the head councilman and the one who would have the final say on your relationship. For some reason, probably to get back at you, Loki had brought you to the most important person in the room. You straightened. You could do this.

“Prince Loki,” Eamon was looking at you when he spoke, “I must say, when you told us you’d found your future queen, I hadn’t been expecting Miss YLN. You hadn’t quite painted a clear picture.”

You weren’t sure what Eamon was accusing him of, but Loki didn’t look worried. With his hands still in his pockets as if he couldn’t be bothered to take them out, he gave a little shrug.

“I didn’t want to influence your opinion before meeting her,” Loki explained, “but I imagine you could only have been pleasantly surprised.”

Eamon smiled, “I’m glad you’ve found someone else who makes you happy.”

Loki’s arms tightened at his side, squishing your arm in between his. Any more and it would hurt. You tried not to look up at him in surprise. There had been someone else? Who? When? Immediately, Valkyrie flashed through your mind.

“YN is magnificent,” he grit out, obviously affected by the comment.

Suddenly, the two of you were too stiff. Too awkward. You tried for a fond smile. Eamon’s expression never changed so you weren’t sure if you’d achieved it or not. You felt the panic begin to rise. Where was the Loki who had lied so easily to Valkyrie? Where was the king who’d commanded the room? Where was the prick who’s taunted you seconds ago? The silence was dragging on and you had to fight the urge to fill it with useless babbling. Instead, you lifted Loki’s hand from his pocket and interlaced your hands, giving yourself time to think.

“He’s too kind,” you finally said, addressing Eamon, “it was his kindness that first attracted me to him.”

“And how did you meet?” he asked.

Your heart flipped in your chest. You thought you had come up with something clever to fill the silence but really you’d just dug yourselves into an even deeper hole. You opened your mouth but nothing came out. Snapping it shut, you let out a sharp breath that you hoped he misconstrued for a laugh. If this was a competition, then both of you were failing miserably.

“Why don’t you tell the story?” you asked, looking up at Loki.

He looked down at you, eyes glazed over and you weren’t sure he even saw you. You dug your nails into his hand. Hard. The pain must have snapped him out of whatever thoughts he’d been sucked into because that smug little grin returned. You’d never thought you’d actually be glad to see it.

“It feels like it was yesterday,” his eyes were bright as if he found himself amusing, “I was in Midgard visiting King Earl and she was a maid.”

“So he thought,” you interrupted, doing your best not to glare at him. At least he was out of whatever that was, even if it meant he was back to annoying you, “I was actually a soldier in the king’s guard and I knocked Loki flat on his ass for his mistake.”

The fey’s eyes widened. Loki chuckled. He didn’t seemed bothered by your comment. If anything, it looked more like he was warming up to the idea of your little competition.

“That was only because I was stunned by her incredible beauty,” he explained.

“And my skill apparently.”

You thought he was going to offer another counterpoint, but instead he nodded, “it’s all true. Though I must say, normally we’re more evenly matched.”

Eamon nodded slowly, dark eyes taking in everything, “and what happened next?”

“I asked her to dinner,” Loki answered simply and you thought that was going to be that, but he wasn’t letting you off the hook that easily, “but she said no.”

“No?” Eamon asked, surprised.

By now your little story had gathered a small crowd and everyone was looking at you expectantly. The human who’d turned down the future king of Asgard. You couldn’t glare at Loki, fearing you’d give something away, but you knew he was grinning, watching you squirm. You’d told hm to keep up. You should’ve expected that a king would play to win.

You shrugged, “I didn’t think we’d have anything in common. And I was busy.”

The last comment earned a few chuckled from the crowd and you lifted your free hand, palm up, as if to say _what could I do about it._

Loki took over, “the next time I went back to Midgard, she realized that maybe she’d been too hasty to turn me down, and she asked me to dinner instead.”

“When someone looks this good, how are you supposed to say no,” you laughed, lifting onto your toes and kissing him on the cheek, “and he was so eager, it was adorable. He said yes immediately.”

He turned and stared at you as if you were the only person in the room. You were caught off guard by the intensity of it and you couldn’t look away. It was a dangerous game you were playing. The corner of his mouth lifted slightly. You smirked.

“Eventually, we did go to dinner and got to know each other better,” he continued, turning to face the ever growing crowd, “turns out we had a lot more in common that she originally thought.”

The crowd laughed at his callback and you almost sighed with relief. The councilmen might not have bought the act yet, but at least the other nobles were beginning to seem convinced.

“It wasn’t love at first sight,” you murmured, knowing you didn’t have to speak loudly for them to hear, “but I think it’s something so much better than that,”

He tilted his head and looked at you with that half smirk and a glint in his eyes. If you didn’t know any better, you almost would have thought he was impressed. You grinned, hoping your smug look of victory came across as loving. You were good at this, and most importantly, now he knew it too. Just because he needed a queen, didn’t mean he couldn’t easily replace you if this wasn’t working out. You weren’t going to give him any reason to change his mind.

The councilman’s face was still silent and impassive. All you could hear was the heavy beat of your heart as you waited to see if he’d bought any of it.

A gentle smile softened Eamon’s expression and you almost squeed Loki’s hand with relief.

“You two seem to complement each other quite nicely,” Eamon said, “almost as if you were fated to meet.”

This time your smile was genuine. The orange moon was still far away, but at least you were headed in the right direction to get Nat out of Niflheim. Loki let go of your hand and wrapped an arm around your waist to pull you in closer. You tried not to be stiff, but it was hard when you were hyper aware of every place that your bodies connected. You’d never been affectionate, even with Nat, so you found yourself over analyzing your posture, wondering how credible you could really be. Loki on the other hand seemed completely at ease, fingers drawing little circles on your side.

“I’m positive you will like it here in Asgard, Miss YLN. Although I’m sure you must find our realm a little strange,” Eamon continued.

His words let you know you weren’t doing a very good job at masking your discomfort.

“I’m fine as long as Loki is here with me,” you tentatively rested your head on his shoulder. It seemed like the right thing to do.

“YN is fine no matter what,” Loki affirmed, “she’s the strongest person I know, fey and human alike.”

You wanted to scoff at such a lie, but it was cut short when you saw the admiration in everyone’s eyes, even the councilman. For some reason, Blackgrave seemed to be able to sell love far better than you could and you looked up to see just what you were missing. His eyes were wide and filled with puppy-like innocence that didn’t at all suit the fey you’d met and spent time with. The crowd didn’t seem to agree. It was a good reminder of his skills as a liar and how little you could actually trust him.

“I must admit that I was worried when I saw that your future queen was human,” Eamon shot an apologetic smile your way, “but I must say that your confidence has inspired me, Prince Loki. I’m looking forward to seeing how both of you manage with your trials in the future.”

Loki tensed at your side, but you didn’t know why. Eamon’s words were a good thing. He wanted to see how you’d overcome obstacles in the future which meant that he wasn’t ready to kick you out of the palace just yet. That might have only made one council member, but you had to start somewhere.

“And we’ll do it with grace and dignity,” you beamed, your cheeks sore from all the fake smiling.

Eamon nodded and wished you a good rest of evening, and with that, the crowd seemed to disperse as well. You stepped out of Loki’s arms and walked off to the banquet table in search of food and a reason to stand facing the windows, desperate for a break in the whole act.

“I think that went well,” you murmured when you felt Loki walk up beside you.

“Not bad,” he agreed, “you’re almost as good at this as I am, sweetheart.”

You snorted, “better, prince. Better.”

“We’ll have to see about that,” he promised, “get ready. Here’s another councilman. Three down, two to go.”

You sighed and popped a small berry that looked like a grape into your mouth. You rolled back your shoulders.

“Ready.”

You both turned around at the same time, wide smiles on your faces.

“So that’s it then?” you asked, leaning against the doorframe to the banquet hall.

Your legs could barely keep you standing and you could feel the soft pulses of a headache coming on. The party was dwindling, but all of the council members were still mingling with the remaining guests. When you’d asked, Loki had said that he’d wanted to stay until they had all gone. All you wanted to do was eat a real meal and go to bed. If you could, you wanted to try and find the Hand first, but really, there was nothing you wanted more than food and sleep. But none of that mattered. You were stuck here.

“You look tired,” Loki remarked, but when you opened your eyes, he was scanning the crowd thoughtfully.

“Human,” you answered and hoped it was enough of an explanation that he wouldn’t press for the real reason.

“True,” he hummed, “I forget sometimes by the way you stare down the council as if you’re ready to fight them all at once. It’s not wonder none of the other guests were brave enough to approach.”

You were about to retort but realized he had a point. And you were too tired to say anything. You let your head fall back on to the wall and closed your eyes.

“I’ll work on it,” you muttered.

He didn’t say anything. Only when you opened your eyes a few moments later thinking maybe he’d left you standing alone did he say, “why don’t we head out?”

You pushed off the doorway, “yes.”

He chuckled and offered you an arm, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this enthusiastic.”

“Well, you’ve never threatened me with a good time before,” you took his arm, surprised by how familiar the gesture had already become.

“And what do you think I’m offering you now?” he asked.

“A meal and a bed, hopefully.”

He raised a brow.

You smacked his arm, “not yours.”

“So yours then,” he smirked.

You smacked him again or good measure.

“We’re not saying goodbye?” you asked when you noticed you were headed away from the party.

“We can always turn back.”

You pulled him along, “don’t you dare.”

~~~~~~~~~

Loki slowed his stride and let YN set the pace. She looked exhausted and he felt bad for not having realized sooner the extent of what he’d asked of her. He should have warned her earlier about the councilmen or at least given her more information about what she was going to expect but he’d been too afraid she’d decide the Hand wasn’t worth it and leave him stranded. And despite all that, she’d done amazing in there. She’d even made a party with the council bearable, which was something he didn’t think he’d ever say. It didn’t matter that she’d made her stance on the whole situation very clear by glaring at him every chance she got, the crowd seemed to love her. Which was far more than he could saw of himself. As soon as Eamon had mentioned Cortese he’d frozen up, lost in memories. The only reason no one had questioned his behaviour was because YN had brought him back fast enough that it wasn’t too suspicious and the fact that he was king. Or used to be. If he didn’t start acting like he was in love, all the power in the world wouldn’t make him king of Asgard again. Hela had made sure of that.

Despite having a million other things to do tonight, he wanted nothing other than an early night and a peaceful sleep. But with Hela whispering in the council’s ear day and night, along with the imminent war Gamora had foreseen, Loki hadn’t had a good night’s sleep in moons.

He looked over at YN who’d been quiet since they’d left the hall. She’d done more than enough tonight. He didn’t have to drag her with him.

“YN?”

“Hmm?”

When he looked down at her, he realized her eyes were closed and that she was letting him guide her. Loki was only surprised for a moment before he remembered always seeing her with a glass in her hands. Obviously what she was feeling wasn’t trust.

“What do you want to do?” he asked.

Her brows furrowed but her eyes still didn’t open, “when?”

“Right now.”

That got her attention.

“Eat and sleep,” she replied without thought.

She didn’t say it aloud, but Loki knew she also wanted to be alone. He could see it on her face and the way she’d let out a small sigh when they’d first walked into the silent hallway. He understood the need more than she could imagine.

“I can have dinner sent up to your room…or we can do something else if you prefer?” he added quickly when her face pinched into a strange expression he couldn’t read.

“No,” she blurted out and then stated more calmly, the first option’s fine. Are you joining?”

He shook his head, “only if you’d like me too.”

She seemed to hesitate, looking at the walls as if they physically had ears.

He saved her from having to find a clever way to turn him down, “actually, I have things to take care of tonight and I have to return to the banquet hall. Do you know the way back to your room?”

She nodded so quickly Loki almost laughed. She was a terrible liar. He didn’t know where the performance in the council room had come from, but he had no doubts she was lying to him now. The prospect of being on her own seemed to have rejuvenated her. She straightened, cricking her neck from side to side and scratching over her shoulder. She obviously wanted to take a look around — without him around of course.

“Explore or don’t,” he said, truly meaning it, “the council knows who you are now, so no one will kick you out of the palace if they see you snooping around.”

“Who says I’ll be snooping?” she yawned for effect, “I was planning on getting an early night.”

This time he couldn’t help but laugh, “sure. Goodnight YN. I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”

Her face fell.

“Don’t worry, it’s only breakfast,” he reassured her, omitting the fact that they had a meeting after breakfast. Her eyes narrowed suspiciously. It was no secret that she didn’t trust him. He didn’t blame her. He was lying and he didn’t trust her either.

“Only with you?” she clarified.

“Only with me,” he echoed.

That seemed to appease her and she was about to leave when something occurred to him. The words were out of his mouth before he could stop himself.

“Can I ask you a question?”

She paused, “only if I can ask you one.”

“Fair enough,” he amended, “would you spar with me some time?”

Loki had been surprised when she’d said that she was a soldier and he was more than a little curious to know how many of her lies had been based in truth. She’d shut down all his earlier attempts at getting to know her better and he was certain she’d do her best to keep it that way. So he figured he would have to be more clever about it.

He was surprised, and pleased, when she nodded.

“I would like that.”

“Good,” he murmured, afraid that if he said anything else she might change her mind, “your turn.”

“What Lucius said about…” she didn’t finished her sentence but she didn’t have to. He knew what she was talking about.

“He likes to speak out of turn,” Loki paused, choosing his words carefully. There was no one else in the hallway, but this was information that his future queen should have already known, “some of the council members haven’t always been supportive of the fact that there was an equal chance that there could have been two kings on the throne or a king and a queen. Even if fate decided to bring you into my life, those council members still seem bitter about my personal preferences..

She nodded slowly, taking the information in. There wasn’t much other than a thoughtful expression on her face and Loki was relieved. This whole thing would have been finished if she had reacted any other way.

“Has there ever been two kings or two queens in Asgard?” she asked.

“Not yet,” he smirked, “but love is love. And in Asgard, that’s the only requirement. There’s nothing they could say or do about it.”

Her face softened and she took his hand. The gesture surprised him, even more so when she gave it a little squeeze, “as it should be. Goodnight prince.”

And then she walked off in the wrong direction.

When he pointed that out, she looked back over her shoulder, an innocent smile on her face that didn’t match the mischief in her eyes, “just taking a little detour, don’t worry about it.”

He was probably going to worry about it later, but he watched her walk away. He’d promised himself that he’d give her as much freedom as was safe for her and his realm. There was no way she’d find the Hand on her own, so he had to trust that she wasn’t really and threat and that she’d be safe after what he was about to do.

When he couldn’t hear her steps anymore, he turned back to the council room. No one reacted when he walked in.

Hela had made her move less than a moon ago, but the council had taken that opportunity whole-heartedly to remind him that he was no longer king. He was only a prince temporarily in charge of the realm, but he wasn’t going to lose his position. He refused to let his people fall into Hela’s hands. Loki had never wanted the crown, but now that he’d had it, he was going to make damn well sure that he kept it. His brother had asked for that much.

“Listen closely.”

Loki didn’t need to shout. His voice carried throughout the room, his tone reminding them that he had once been their king. And with reason. He was far more powerful than everyone in this room, even some of them combined.

“No one touches YN,” he warned, his words slow and deliberate. He found every set of eyes in the room, making sure they all felt seen, “she _will_ be your future queen. There is no doubt about it in my mind. And she might not have a long lifespan, but I have a long memory. You will treat her with the same respect as you did my mother. You’ve been warned.”

He didn’t give them a chance to answer and walked back out of the room. Loki didn’t think any of them would go outright and kill her, but he knew enough of them were power hungry bigots to do something stupid. Thankfully, the council was still wary of him even if he wasn’t their king any more. He could rest easier knowing they’d been warned and his own court was keeping an eye on YN most of the time. It wasn’t a foolproof plan, but he wasn’t going to lock her up or stop her from roaming the palace, even if it did cost him his title. 

He strode through the palace, not sure where he was heading and not sure what to do with himself. His whole body felt two sizes too small and he couldn’t shake the feeling. There were so many other things he had to do, but he couldn’t make himself decide on one. Only the thought of his bead was appealing, and even then, he was too restless to really consider it.

“I saw your queen,” Nebula said, falling into step beside him.

She was still dressed in her commanders uniform, dirt smudged over her eyebrow. She’d been sparring with the soldiers again. Not that he was surprised. She been so grumpy this morning that he pitied his army; though at least he knew they’d be prepared to face anything. There were very few things that were more terrifying than his commander when she was angry.

“Where was she?” he asked.

Nebula’s voice was clipped, her mood no better than it was this morning, “roaming the halls, looking incredibly suspicious.”

Loki threw up a magical sound bubble that would contain their voices. Knowing how suspicious it looked, he didn’t like to do it often, even if it was now the second time he’d done it today, but he knew she wasn’t about to let this go. Feeling the magic, she waited until it snapped into place.

“That doesn’t surprise me,” he said with a laugh, knowing that just because they couldn’t be heard didn’t mean they couldn’t be seen.

Nebula crossed her arms, keeping up with his long strides, “she wants the Hand, Loki.”

He waved away her worry, “it’s safe.”

“What makes you think she won’t get it?”

He shot her a look. They both knew who was guarding it. There was no way anyone was getting it — human or otherwise. His answer didn’t seem to satisfy her.

“Who says she’s not a spy?” she continued, her voice rising with irritation, “who says she’s not here for the book to give it to Hela? Who says we even have the right woman?”

Loki tried not to pinch the bridge of his nose. Nebula was right to be concerned; there was a reason he’d appointed her as commander. Still, he found himself saying with more confidence than he felt, “I wanted to know how to prevent Hela from winning over the crown and it gave me her name. She has to be the future queen.”

“Did you ever stop to consider that maybe we need to kill her and not work with her?” Nebula demanded.

The words were harsh, but valid. Yet Loki knew Nebula wouldn’t actually go through with it. As far as they knew, YN was innocent, despite wanting the Hand. And he was sure she was an ally, not an enemy. He couldn’t explain why he was so certain, but he’d decided it the moment he’d met her. However, it wasn’t like he could explain that to Nebula. She would need something far more concrete than a gut feeling.

“You’re being rash,” she continued.

He realized she was steering them toward the kitchen and his stomach growled in anticipation. He wasn’t sure how she did it, or if she was even aware she was doing it, but Nebula had a way of knowing what was best for their court, even if her harsh demeanour didn’t always make it very evident.

“Says the woman who wants to kill the future queen,” he countered.

“She wouldn’t be the future queen if you had thought things through,” she growled, stopping him a hand to his chest, “we’re walking a thing line here, Loki.”

“I know that! But I needed to present my queen today and she showed up just in time. Don’t you think there’s something to that?” Loki’s voice was rising and his control was slipping. The bubble around them almost dropped in the burst of emotion.

She poked him in the chest, but she’d lost all bite at his outburst. They were both tired and running through this blind. Arguing wouldn’t help any of them see things clearer.

“We had a backup plan,” she murmured.

“You would have been miserable as queen,” he shot her a smile, “especially that you would have to admit that you find me incredibly attractive.”

She punched him on the arm, “I’m a good liar.”

“Very true,” he laughed, “but this is the best option, Nebula. Trust me.” Loki wasn’t sure that he trusted himself, but he had to believe he was doing the right thing. And if he wasn’t, at least he knew his court was there to help with his mistakes — and to make sure he never forgot them, “and I’ll stay on my guard with YN.”

She sighed reluctantly, but finally looked convinced, “okay.”

“Okay,” he changed the subject, “what have the citizens been saying?”

“They’ll fight if it comes to war again. I tried to reassure them that nothing was wrong and that we were just gathering information, but they know something’s coming. They can feel it,” Nebula shrugged, “Hela’s arrival’s made them all uneasy.”

He nodded slowly and sighed, “better they’re wary than oblivious.”

“They’d better be wary,” Nebula said with a printed look, “you have a human for a future queen and she was stupid enough to agree to the trials. You’d better hope you were right about what that _thing_ meant when it gave you the word YN.”

Loki could only nod and let the magic bubble drop. He was about to follow her into the kitchen when he noticed movement out of the corner of his eye. The hallway was empty, but he could have sworn he’d seen something. He listened closely, waiting to see if whoever it was might give themselves away.

“Are you coming?” Nebula called from the kitchen.

He heard the banging of pots and decided he’d better go inside before she decided to start cooking and accidentally set the palace on fire. With one last look around, he walked into the kitchen.


	6. The Fey King is Cold but at least it's not 40 Below

Chapter Five

Loki groaned, the sound of his alarm clock taking him only seconds after he’d fallen asleep. He knew that technically it wasn’t true, but it definitely felt like it. Even for moons before YN had arrived, the days had been blending together, problems piling up, one after the other with barely enough time to solve one before the next arose.

He let his head fall back against the pillow. Loki missed the days when he actually saw his court for reasons that weren’t life threatening. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d spent the day in the library with Wanda or the last time he’d played a few rounds of cards with Bucky and Gamora. The only thing he still did was spar in the barracks with Nebula, but it had become more of a necessity at this point than a social call. Loki was beginning to think that the last time any of them had had genuine fun was when his brother had been king. Thor had only been king for fifty years but Loki missed those days more than anything. In all honesty, he missed his brother.

With a sigh, he pushed himself to a seat and stared at the door that separated his room from YN’s room. Nebula was right to be worried about the human on the other side of the door, especially that there was nothing Loki could say to reassure either of them that he’d made the right call. He’d spent most of the night awake trying to think of something — anything — that would serve as proof that he hadn’t just condemned his realm by making this deal with YN. The only thing he’d found reassuring was the way she seemed to wear her emotions on her sleeve. Emotions that seemed real enough — especially her hatred towards him. It was the reason he’d been so surprised by the way she’d so gracefully handled the party last night.

But parties were the least of their worries. They were filled with noblemen and ladies whose opinions didn’t matter. At least it was good practice. Practice he needed. Loki had been so preoccupied with protecting his realm from the inevitable war coming that he’d forgotten what it was like to flirt and act like the burden of his title didn’t exist. It was even harder than he’d expected to act like the same lighthearted, overconfident prince he’d once been because until last night, he hadn’t realized that he’d lost sight of that person to begin with. Even if he still enjoyed the way he’d managed to get flustered reactions from YN, he was a far cry away from convincing.

There was no movement on the other side of the door, but that didn’t reassure Loki in the slightest. He’d learned his lesson the last time. Rubbing the fatigue from his eyes, he got ready for another day. There was a council meeting this morning that he knew would make a scene if he brought YN along with him, but apart from that, he’d promised her that they wouldn’t be spending their days together and he’d meant it. He had to believe that giving her her freedom was the right thing to do even if his sleepless night had made him doubt that it really was the safest thing to do.

He could have used the door connecting their rooms, but he chose to walk out into the hallway and knock on her door. Loki had seen the way she’d looked at their proximity with revulsion and he wasn’t about to piss her off for something like this — no matter how much he enjoyed the look on her face that made him wonder if she would try to stab him. He knew she had a dagger on her. He didn’t know where she kept it, but he knew it was there. And knowing it was there made things all the more interesting.

After a few knocks, he heard faint movement and then the sound of her dragging her feet to the door. When she pulled open the door, she groaned.

“What?”

Loose hair poked every which way out of her braids and her already squinty eyes narrowed even further. Judging by the baggy, soft looking pyjama — courtesy of Valkyrie — it seemed he’d been the one to wake her up this time.

“Morning,” he chirped.

“Rot in the seven hells,” she muttered back.

Loki was sure she was going to slam the door in his face but then she seemed to remember where she was and why she was here. The forced smile she shot him made her look queasy.

“I mean,” she sucked in a long breath, her eyes fluttering closed for a moment as she collected herself, “good morning, Laufeyson.”

His smile grew. Her eyes darkened with fury.

“No actually, I really did mean rot in the seven hells,” she whispered before slamming the door in his face.

“Guess you’re not a morning person,” Loki muttered to the door.

He leaned against the doorframe and closed his eyes, waiting for her to come back out. He heard her soft footsteps padding around in the room as well as the sound of drawers opening and closing. He wasn’t paying much attention to her other than to make sure she didn’t escape out the courtyard window. Even if she did it only to explore more of the palace on her own, he wasn’t sure how he’d be able to explain the escapade to the council. Loki was well aware that he was already walking on thin ice with them, his lies barely convincing enough for them to swallow.

When YN walked back out of the room, her scowl was replaced by a smile that was almost terrifying it was so phoney. But with the hallway deserted, it quickly dropped. She opened her mouth and then closed it, eyes darting to the walls as she swallowed her anger. Still, he could see it there, simmering just below the surface.

It didn’t matter how well she’d hidden it at the party, there was no doubt in his mind that she hated him. So he grinned, knowing it set her on edge. She sucked in a deep breath and for a second he held his, wondering if this was the moment she was actually going to throw a punch at him but she only smiled sweetly. He held her gaze and nodded, oddly satisfied that she wasn’t going to back down. He knew it was stupid of them to be acting this way in public, but this silly competition between them was the only thing lately that didn’t want to make him crawl back into his bed.

“It’s going to be a quick breakfast today,” Loki began, leading her down the hallway as if they hadn’t been locked in a staring contest, “we have a meeting soon.

“Great.”

He wasn’t looking forward to it either.

“I deserve the most amazing breakfast after what I did last night,” she continued.

Loki knew that was true, but they didn’t have the time for it. Not wanting to say as much, he replied arrogantly, “that was only because you were following my lead.”

He smirked when her face pinched in frustration.

“If any of us was pulling the weight last night, it was me,” she snapped with a glare that would have withered most people.

Loki made a mental note to keep her away from Nebula for now. He wasn’t sure the palace was ready for what might happen if the two of them met, regardless of whether or not they got along.

“Doubtful,” he taunted.

“Don’t be an asshole.”

He stopped short, surprised. She crossed her arms over her chest, not looking apologetic or like she was about to take back her words any time soon. Fine with him. He didn’t want her to either.

“How about we call it a tie,” he offered even though what he really wanted to do was see how far he could push her before one of them gave up and called it quits.

“I don’t do ties,” she answered haughtily.

He chuckled unable to look away from the fire in her eyes when he said, “neither do I.”

*******

You hated to admit it, but breakfast, although quick, had almost made up for being woken up this morning. Almost. But that wasn’t because of failure the food’s part. Your body was already showing signs of fatigue and wear, and only a battalion of food and sleep would stave off the effects of your abilities — because the one solution to your problem wasn’t an option here.

You sat at the head of a massive oval table with Loki, listening to the councilmen bicker about a new policy which, if you had understood correctly, would increase trade between Asgard and the realms that had once sided with Odin during the war. The longer they argued about the semantics of the policy, the angrier you became.

Loki had been silent through the whole matter, looking like he was about to fall asleep. He hadn’t spoken a word the entire time you’d been here either, not even a word as you’d walked in. But your presence had spoken volumes, silencing the room as you’d entered. Only a nod from Loki had started the meeting.

The councilmen’s voices never rose beyond mild disinterest — never showed real emotion — as they spoke of the best way to profit and collude with the people who had condoned a genocide hundreds of years ago. You wanted to bash their heads into the table, their words exhuming memories of screams and terror and smoke. You fought to push them back into their box, but the harder you pushed, the faster the memories rose to the surface. Fear and anger washed over you until you weren’t certain that you would’t lunge across the table and rip them to shreds.

Fingers brushed against the back of your hand and you jumped, almost snarling at the contact. Loki’s fingers smoothed back and forth along your clenched hand, but his attention was elsewhere as if it was a mindless gesture he did every day. You smoothed out your hand, and the evidence of your frustration, feeling the eyes of the councilmen on you. You weren’t sure if they’d felt your anger pulsating across the room or if the little act of intimacy had caught their attention, but they now stared at you expectantly as if they were waiting for something.

You looked over at Loki, trying to figure out what you’d missed. You half expected him to return your gaze with that cocky little smirk of his, but his expression was colder than Niflheim. It wasn’t focused on you either. It was focused on the fey in front of you.

“No,” was the only thing Loki said, voice eerily calm.

Helio’s lips spread into a satisfied grin.

“No, _prince_?” He sneered the title like an insult, “without an active king on Asgard, these matters fall into the hands of a council vote. And if I must remind you, there is no active king on Asgard.”

Loki’s fingers stopped moving, “It will wait until the orange moon.”

The air suddenly dropped in temperature as Loki’s command reverberated throughout the room. The other councilmen flinched at the raw power behind his order, but Helio only sneered. 

“I’m afraid it cannot wait. Svartalfheim and Alfheim have given us until the next moon to decide,” Helio replied pleasantly, leaving the obvious unsaid when he continued, “we must act now.”

You stared between them, your anger rising up into your throat like bile. None of them looked at you directly, but you knew this was a direct hit at you. They hadn’t said anything about your presence here, but you’d known by their faces the moment you’d walked into the room that Loki had broken some sort of rule by bringing you along. And now, because of Loki’s arrogance, realms filled with terrible people who had done horrifying things were going to benefit from it. And of course, as the leader of the realm who turned its back on the Dual Realms during the war, you knew he wasn’t going to try any harder than he had to to stop the policy from going through. This was all part of the act. He was acting frustrated on your behalf, like the lover of any human would. He was a fraud and a coward. He didn’t care.

“I will not see Thor’s work destroyed by Fey who wish to see humans eradicated because they are terrified of them,” Loki affirmed, his voice no louder than a whisper.

Magic crackled in the air and the councilmen seemed to freeze, their spines straightening as if they’d been electrocuted. Their faces paled with genuine fear, but Loki hadn’t done anything more than whisper a threat. Or so you thought. A memory of the pain you’d felt that first night flickered through your mind and you realized that maybe he was doing something to them — something only they could feel.

“We will not loosen our policies with the angels or the dark elves,” he continued, “there will be no vote.”

Nothing happened in the room for an eternal moment and then a collective sigh escaped their lips along with five terse nods. No one said anything, their glares of hatred a clear enough message. You shivered. Loki might have won this battle, but judging by their looks, they weren’t finished with the war. Not by a long shot.

“We’re done here.”

Loki stood, lifting your hand with his. His face had softened slightly into a half smile, but all you could see was the cold fury in his eyes. You inspected him a little closer, surprised. There was no way you could have misjudged him, knowing what you did about what had happened during the war, but it was hard to believe that every emotion he portrayed was an act.

His grip on your hand lessened and you realized he was reading your inspection as hesitation. You held on tighter knowing you couldn’t break the act. Not now.

“We’re done here,” you echoed, your anger and frustration on full display.

Loki nodded tersely and led you out of the room, not once looking back. Neither of you said a word on the way to your rooms, you because you were were too afraid to say anything incriminating that might be overheard and him…well you honestly had no clue what was going through his head. All traces of emotion — real or fake — that he’d shown in the meeting were gone, his face unreadable. You couldn’t say the same for yourself. All you wanted to do was hit something. Instead, you began counting the tiles on the floor as you passed, hoping to take your mind off the meeting long enough to calm down.

“I have a feeling it’s not me you’re angry at, but it’s hard to tell by the way you keep glaring at me,” he murmured with a soft chuckled.

At the sound of his amusement, it took all of your restraint not to grab your dagger and jab it into his chest. He hadn’t once looked your way but he obviously knew how you were feeling. The thought enraged you even more, knowing you weren’t skilled enough at courtly politics to keep any sort of emotion off your face.

“After a meeting like that, I have every right to be,” you snapped, refusing to clarify whether you were mad at him or at them.

“Yes, you do,” he answered softly. Loki stopped beside your bedroom door and rested against the wall, peering down at you with a sad expression on his face. “And if it’s any consolation,” he shrugged slightly as if the words made him uncomfortable, “I’m sorry about what happened to your people.”

Your heart jammed into your throat, the words knocking the breath from your chest. How did he know what you were? How had you managed to give away so much? And how could he be sorry when he’d sat by and let it happen?

Somehow you managed to echo, “my people?”

His brows furrowed slightly, “humans.”

Your people. Those weren’t your people. Other than your sister, there weren’t any of you people left. He’d made damn sure of that when he’d chosen his own realm and left yours to die.

“It’s not a consolation,” you managed and pushed open the door.

You strode to the middle of the room, hands about to tear out your hair when you realized that you hadn’t shut the door behind you. Loki peered around the corner, barely having moved from his position.

“What do you want?” you growled.

He shrugged again, “I’m glad you haven’t forgiven them…any of them… for what they’ve done. I know it was generations before you, but none of them deserve your forgiveness.”

The words were out of your mouth before you could stop them, “no thanks to you.”

The expression on his face hardened, the temperature dropping with it. He didn’t move, his body taking inhuman stillness. A predator waiting to pounce. The silence itself felt dangerous and you could sense your magic rising like hackles in anticipation of a fight — a fight you very much wanted. You held his gaze, daring him to contradict you. You held it just to prove that, unlike the other nobles here, you weren’t afraid of him. That unlike the Fey, you weren’t his to command.

You continued with a snap, “You don’t get to have an opinion when you’re just as much to blame as the rest of them.”

“Watch it YN,” he warned, eyes darkening, his voice a low growl in the back of his throat.

You let out a cold laugh, “make me.”

“You don’t want to go there,” he took a step forward but seemed to remember himself and then stopped.

It only made a ferocious grin spread further across your lips. His eyes flared, a green so bright you could have sworn you saw magic and fire through them. Good.

“You want a fight? Courtyard. Five minutes,” he barked through clenched teeth, “jump out the window if you don’t know how to get there.”

He turned away and slammed the door behind him.

You let out a breath as if the step he’d taken into your room had sucked all the air from it. But that didn’t mean that any of your anger was gone along with him. It wasn’t going to be a fair fight, not while you were in this form, but you were sure in the seven hells not going down without one. Him and his people had ruined thousands of lives during the war. You were going to make him hurt for that.

*******

Loki trembled as he strode away from YN’s room, his fists clenching and unclenching at his sides. His breathing shallowed and he could feel the memories ebbing in like shadows from the corners of his mind. He tried to shove them down before they could wrap those dark tendrils of despair around him and cripple him completely but they weren’t having it. He stuffed his fists into his pockets before anyone could see. He could feel the magic currents in the air, stronger now than before, and it took all of his restraint not to pull on one and watched an explosion of magic follow in its wake.

She hadn’t been there. YN hadn’t been there during the war and yet even she knew how much of a failure he’d been. The word echoed in his mind, bouncing around and repeating itself until the only sound he could hear wasfailure. Loki tried again to push the feeling down and lock it away like he’d gotten so much better at doing, but nothing stopped the word from getting louder and louder in his head.

His steps quickened. If she wanted a fight, she would damned well get one.

He was in the courtyard before the minute was up a materialized a long bamboo stick. Just because he was loosing his head didn’t mean that he was stupid enough to fight with real weapons. He paced around the dirt, unable to stand still. He wasn’t calm, but at least he wasn’t shaking anymore. He twirled the stick in his hands. He checked the time. Paced to the other side of the courtyard and back. Checked the time. Took the top layer of his tunic off. Rolled his shoulders back. Checked the time.

The wind picked up, carrying the smell of the sea even this far inland, dragging along dark clouds in tow. A storm was coming. If that wasn’t a sign that this was a bad idea and that he should turn back, he didn’t know what was. But he couldn’t do a damned thing to stop himself.

When the five minutes were up, the courtyard was still empty. He didn’t blame her for not coming. Not after the way he’d snapped at her and ordered her here. He was about to head off to the barracks to find Nebula for a fight when he heard YN step out into the courtyard. She didn’t take another step, and with his back to her, he wasn’t sure he should turn around and face her. He was about to tell her to go back, that this wasn’t a good idea, but she spoke up before he did.

“If you were going to order me around like the king you once were then I would have thought you’d have the decency to let us fight with actual weapons.”

He turned around, and even though he didn’t feel like it drawled, “Somehow, I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

That earned him a cold laugh, “maybe you’re right.”

Valkyrie had done her job well, giving YN a sleek, lightweight fighting tunic that he knew would protect her far more than it looked like it would. She stomped across the courtyard with the purpose of someone who was very, very pissed off.

“One?” he asked, lifting the stick so that she knew what he was talking about. He hadn’t risen to her taunt but he wasn’t calm enough to be polite about it.

“Two.”

He materialized two short sticks and handed them over, arm outstretched, not daring to get any closer. YN didn’t flinch at his display of magic, which either meant that she was accustomed to it or she didn’t care. Loki hoped it was the latter because the former would meant that things were infinitely more complicated.

She took the smallest step necessary to reach the sticks and lifted them from his hands with surprising gentleness. She turned them over in her hands delicately, twirled them around once, twice, and then nodded. He wasn’t sure if it was to him or to herself.

She lifted her head, “Rules?”

“None,” he replied. It seemed that neither of them could manage more than a one worded answer.

She barred her teeth in a cat like grin and through all his emotion, he felt a prick of interest. Fighting a human would be easy, but the look in her eyes, alive with fury and determination, promised him a good fight. Even if he found that hard to believe.

She backed into a fighting stance. He did the same, waiting for her to make the first move. She took a small but steady step and they began to circle. Loki refused to give into the instinct to finish the fight before it even started, reigning it in despite how much he itched for a real fight Every step he took, he took waiting to see what she’d do next. He was never waiting long. Her steps were human and easily predictable and the mindless circling was making him more frustrated than less.

She slashed with one of her sticks and he easily sidestepped the hit without returning it. He grinned, only to taunt her. But despite her temper, she didn’t lash out and waited for what would have been an opportune moment had he been human. Instead, he feinted and sent her tumbling to the ground. To his surprise, she caught herself at the last second and rolled back up to her feet.

“Stop holding back,” she snarled.

He hesitated, not sure if he should follow her demand, knowing she physically wouldn’t be able to keep up.

“Do it,” she ordered, and then added just because she could, “ _Prince_ Loki.”

He moved on instinct, blocking and countering her moves easily until, within moments, he had her pinned to the ground, his body hovering just above hers.

“Was this what you wanted?” he growled, finding no satisfaction in the easy win.

Her lips spread into a feline grin that, paired with the crazy look in her eyes, sent shivers down his spine — even if she was the one pinned down with a stick to her throat.

She lifted her chin higher, their noses almost touching, and crooned, “look down, prince.”

He titled his head, his anger momentarily giving way to curiosity. She was too confident for him to think that he’d won this fight. And he wasn’t wrong. There, piercing the fabric of his tunic, was a very real dagger — the same one she’d pointed at him the first night — poised to stab him in the heart if she wanted. Of course, now that she’d told him it was there, there was no way she could move fast enough to strike the killing blow, but somehow, she’d drawn that knife on him without him realizing it.

“You cheated,” he huffed, admittedly impressed.

He couldn’t deny, even through all of his anger, that there weren’t many people who could have pulled a dagger on him, let alone a human.

She dropped the knife and tucked it into her boot, their bodies brushing against each other at the movement. Loki knew it hadn’t been there in the first place and that she had done so in order to keep its hiding place a secret. If he was in her shoes, he would have done the same.

“Human,” she shrugged as if it wasn’t the most vague answer she could have come up with.

He lifted up off the ground, but didn’t offer her his hand. He knew she wouldn’t take it.

“So that automatically makes you a cheater?”

“It means that I’m always at a disadvantage and I do what I have to,” she said, brushing the dirt off her pants.

YN picked up the other stick that she’d discard in the fight, her fingers paling from the death grip she had on it. She may have looked collected, but obviously he wasn’t the only one who was still itching for a fight. Good.

He propped up the stick, ready in his hands, “I’ll keep that in mind for the next round.”

“Next round?”

The words were phrased as a question, but she was already twirling her sticks, eyes widening as she readied for a fight. It didn’t stop him from goading her even further.

“What,” he smirked, “are you tired, YN?”

“Don’t use me as an excuse to give up, Prince Loki,” she retorted.

His grin widened, “I wouldn’t dare.”

*******

You were pretty sure you were about to collapse, but at least you no longer wanted to throttle everyone in this place. Sweat dripped from your forehead onto the ground and you wiped it away before taking a long sip of water. Loki stood at the far end of the courtyard, whispering with a dark elf who looked just as imposing as Loki did. Your human body had been ready to quit the round before the last, but your pride and anger had refused to tell him that. Mercifully, the elf’s interruption had made Loki declare it the final one. You didn’t know who the elf was and neither of them had offered up any introductions, but you could tell he was important judging by the way Loki listened to him so intently.

From your spot sitting on the ground you kept your eyes on them, trying to glean any information you could from the exchange. Both of their expressions remained neutral, never giving anything away. The only thing you knew for sure was that they were talking about something important.

You dug your fingernails into the dirt. Had Odin known how impossible his demand had been when he had made it? Had he realized you weren’t prepared for any of this? You balled the earth in your hand. It didn’t matter. He didn’t care.

Loki pursed his lips, the first sign that he wasn’t happy with their conversation, but he nodded anyways. That seemed to satisfy the elf and he turned around, your gazes locking for a second. You forced your face to remain neutral, trying to keep the surprise off your face. The entirety of his arm from his shoulder down to his fingertips was a dark metal laced with traces of gold. You’d never seen anything like it. Dark elves were notoriously fast and strong, and yet something had taken off with his arm. You shuddered to think what that thing could be. The corner of his mouth barely moved, so much so that you weren’t sure it had, but you had the impression he was amused. He was already walking away before you got the chance to look at any of his other features.

“Do it now,” the elf called over his shoulder as he left the courtyard.

You looked over at Loki to see how he’d take the order, but he didn’t seem fazed by it. Actually, he looked as tired as you felt even though you knew that couldn’t be true. He rolled his head from hide to side, a gesture more human than you thought possible from a Fey. Strange.

“Do you think we can manage dinner with the councilmen tonight?” he asked, striding over, “because we’ll be dinning with them every second night.”

You groaned and let your head fall back against the wall.

He didn’t say anything but you could feel his eyes on you, watching in that same unnerving way he always did. Even with your eyes closed you felt like you were giving away more information than you could afford to part with.

“How many days until the orange moon?” you couldn’t help but ask, too tired to do the math anyways. You didn’t care that he knew you wanted the Hand and that you wanted to leave. It was the one thing between you that wasn’t a secret.

“Anxious to be queen?” He chuckled.

I snorted, “I was never meant to be queen.”

He didn’t say anything to that and when you opened your eyes you almost flinched back. His hand was right in front of you, extended. You hadn’t heard him approach, even on the crunchy ground, because of your stupid human hearing. He smirked but there was none of the usual humour in his eyes. Instead he looked almost…sad.

“If it makes you feel ay better, neither was I,” he said, pulling you up to a stand.

You stood facing each other for a moment as you tried to figure out what to do with that information. If you’d known more about Asgard you might have understood, but you’d never been very good at sitting down for lessons and you couldn’t remember much from them anyways. Something had happened to make this fey a king and as much as you hated him, you got the feeling he had never asked for it.

But you knew that if you pressed him for information he would never trust you and you’d never get the Hand before the orange moon. And anyways, this place had to have a library. Just because you hated sitting down for a lesson didn’t mean that you weren’t able to do it now.

“Meant to be queen?” you teased instead.

You felt victorious when you saw the tension leave his face. If you could control your temper long enough to get him to trust you then maybe this whole thing wasn’t as hopeless as you first thought. For the first time since it had been put around your neck like a noose, Odin’s pendant didn’t feel as chilling.

“Exactly,” he chuckled, “shall we go to another excruciating meal with the council?”

You looped your arm in his, “only because we have to.”


End file.
